Life after the dead
by Eggsbenedictus
Summary: Daryl has been traveling a short time with Joe and his band of reject hunters. Much as he suspected their understanding turns sour when he's accused of stealing half a rabbit. Just as their fists find him, a girl interupts. She saves him, killing on of the men and threatening two others to secure his release. Daryl X OC
1. Chapter 1

Life after the dead.  
Chapter 1.

It had been three days since she had made a run, or even gone outside the gates for more than an hour. The house she had occupied wasn't running out of supplies or anything but she knew she had to move soon, get out there again. She just hadn't been able to bring herself to step outside her gates. She had found the place a few weeks ago and fortified it to the best of her abilities. The windows were all nailed up, she had set up fences with nails and stakes to prevent the dead from coming in. In the surrounding woods she had dug holes and laid out traps for both walkers and wildlife, though she had not cleared them in a few days and she suspected that whatever edible she had caught had now long perished.

If she was really honest with herself, the place was way too big for her. Though she had always dreamt of having a house like it, ever since she was small, the house or mansion in fact was huge and hard to keep secure, the place had a bloody courtyard for fucks sake. She had counted over twelve bedrooms and four functional bathrooms, though all the water was cold. She had thought to check the pipes and the boiler, and maybe try and macgyver a fix, but she had never been particularly good with plumbing. She hardly knew how to unclog a toilet, let alone mend a boiler.

She had secured the place, killed the dead she found inside and buried them far from the property, knowing that would keep the bodies from contaminating the soil. She had thought to grow something there, after all there was lots of space around the building and she had set her fences up at quite the distance. The fences were made from stray wood, half a brick wall which she guessed was left from an outbuilding of some description, barbed wire and plywood. She had basically used anything she could find that was sturdy enough and had proved a defence against the dead.

Still, even with all her precautions they had broken through two times. Big packs of at least two dozen, which had taken her hours to clean up. She had to guide them and lure them all through the house, jamming sharp objects into their skulls at every turn. Once she had even resorted to chugging one through the window, which she hated herself for later, as she had admired the woodwork and its stained glass. She had recovered the shards after the clean up, but there was not enough left to mend it.

After the last encounter she had felt raw and disillusioned, she had only barely made it out alive and the constant silence around her was starting to get to her. She had settled in his ginormus house so that there would be enough room for a group, and it would be protected enough for them to stay there, but she hadn't seen another decent living being since her escape. Since she found the place she had been searching for people, the kind that she could trust, or at least trust enough that she could sleep without getting gutted.

She had never been particularly good at making friends, and even less so at keeping them. She was an angry person, it was practically engraved in her face. It carried a constant knotted brow and she couldn't recall the last time her lips have ever been tugged into a smile. Her forehead was constantly folded, leaving lines in her unhealthy skin that remained even when she relaxed. Beneath her angry and unkempt eyebrows rested even angrier eyes. They had been reduced to slits and were sharp as a knife. She would like to have blamed her hardened exterior on the end of the world and the crap she had gone through since, but if she had been this way since childhood.

The last three days she had done nothing but sit in the courtyard or the room she had claimed as her own, and worked on her fletching. She enjoyed being outside after spending so long behind bars, kept far from the sun. She had been making ammo out of branches and suitable wood she had found on a previous trip. Her preferred weapon was the bow and she had made several in her time, her latest and most proud creation was a recurve. She had once seen one like it in an Egyptian exposition in the local museum and she had thought it to be the most beautifully crafted weapon she had ever laid her eyes on. This one, she had carved from memory and she couldn't wait to paint it.

She swept up a rucksack and threw it over her shoulder, fastening the strips and taking up her weapon. She attached a leather wrap of arrows to her belt, took up a few more in her hand and headed out the door. It was time to make a much needed run.

Her feet carried her with speed and confidence, digging into the dirt with purpose. She took in a deep breath and quickened her pace as she eyed a ghoul on the far side, who seemed to be stuck on a stake, growling violently, pawing at her like a child begging for a teet. She rolled her eyes and swiftly planted an arrow in it's socket before heading out the gate. She would clean it up later.

Being far from civilisation had its perks, seeing as it made it hard to find but also made it harder for her to find it again. She had gotten lost the first few days, but had set up markers through out the woods to help her find her way back, but she hadn't covered every direction yet. The people that initially had the place built must have been keen on getting away from people, as that was exactly what they achieved. It had amazed her that the place had actually been overtaken, and that the people inside had been long gone, as it must have taken ages for them to even get wind about what had happened. A home built for so many, they would surely have had the numbers to defend themselves. Or perhaps it had been a retreat, for the holidays and nobody had been there to begin with. The place had been fairly clean of blood, and it hadn't been trashed in struggle till she got there. She didn't feel guilty about that in the slightest, places like this were meant to be used, a home without people was just another building.

Finding her truck hidden, she took to unveiling it and swiping the left over leaves off her ride. She had hidden it, in case she had to make a quick get-away, someone wanted to take it, or in case someone was looking for her. She did not want to be found. She wanted to be with people, sure , but she had to be the one to pick them. Not the other way around.

She slipped into the front seat, and gently placed her bow beside her, and flung her pack into the back, which made a loud flop. "Jesus!" she cursed at it, turning in her seat to scold it. "Calm down" she ordered, pointing her finger angrily at the baby vomit coloured sack. "Okay, so what do we need?" she asked, to which she quickly answered. "Canned fruits, we don't want to get yellow fever. Bandages, if we can. Nails and pliers. Lighter fluid if we can find some"

She made a mental note, nodding, "of course if we come across something for the stash, we take it." The girl had been making a stash, supplies and desirables for when she found people. Not things they needed, but things they liked, things that people didn't think twice about back in the day, but were considered a luxury now. She sighed to herself a second later as she turned the key in the ignition. She had been talking to herself ever since she got out, and now it was starting to worry her. Was it normal for people to talk to themselves after the turning?


	2. Chapter 2

Life after the dead.  
Chapter 2.

With half an hour she had found an abandoned car. She 'parked' her own vehicle by the side of the road and swiftly armed herself before approaching the no longer as white as it once had been Honda. "This road had been clear earlier this week, so the people that used it might still be around" She told herself. "Still be alive" she squinted, not seeing any figures inside, or any sign of real struggle. Sure the paint had been coated with a layer of dead slime and goo, but that didn't have to mean anything. The windows had been covered in dirt and yuck, blocking her view. Her hand found the hood cold to the touch. Whoever had been in there was long gone. She took in a deep breath, reached for the handle and quickly stepped back as she opened it, revealing nothing she wasn't already expecting. There was some dried blood on the seats and signs of medical aid about the car. A few stray scraps of makeshift bandaging, a red hand print and spatter on the windows.

Her eyes lowered her lids, sighing. She checked the parimiter once, before opening another door to take a better look at what was inside. There were bags, and a rolled up blanket. The blanket was too stained to take, but the bags looked promising. She unzipped one, finding some clothes, which seemed clean, a package of what seemed to be jerky of some description, and a thermos. She took the first bag and left the other, finding only gone off food inside.

She moved to the front of the car, sliding into the passenger seat, and opening the glove compartment with some force as it had jammed. She squinted once she got it open as she found a handgun inside. "Why didn't they take it?" she asked herself as she fingered the weapon. It was in reasonable condition, and the mag still had a few rounds, it was perfectly alright. Inside the compartment was a pack of gum and a map, which she decided to take as well .

She closed the doors as gently as she could, eyeing her surroundings once before turning back to the car. She nodded and smiled at it. "Thank you" she spoke to the previous occupants before heading back to her vehicle. The people inside had found their demise in some way, and their deaths had allowed her to add to her own survival, the least she could do was be respectful. People were rotten enough already, she didn't have to add bad manners to the mix.

She found herself driving around, until at last she found a place that looked promising enough to risk a scavenge, a building of some description which may hold something of use to her. As soon as she spotted it, she turned the key and swiftly stepped out the truck. If there were people inside, she did not want them hearing her coming. She crept closer to it, bow at the ready with an arrow drawn and her draw-hand full of arrows for when she needed to fire another, when she heard the ruckus inside. Some man was screaming at another, his voice bouncing off the metal walls inside. "My half was in the bag! Now it's gone!" he yelped as she found some crates at the side of the building.

Balancing as carefully as she could she placed one foot in front of the other, trying to keep as quiet as possible. The man inside sure sounded pissed and she did not want him throwing that abuse her way, or worse. Staying as low as possible, she observed the scene through he window. Several men were lain around the place, in cars, on top of cars, and one had seemingly slept on the floor. The man, who once again yelled for another to empty his bag was one of the few actually upright. "I said step back!" the other shouted as he swiped a garbage bag off the floor, before another took it from him. The greying man who was now holding the bag seemed to calm the situation, offering up his hands and talking them down.

"I didn't take nothing..." the accused muttered, to which the other emptied the bag, allowing all kinds of junk to scatter over the floor. She eyed the small pile with a frown which came to a grimace as half a rabbit flopped onto the floor last. "You put that there, didn't you?!" the man threw. "When I went out to take a piss!" he added, pushing the other man backwards. The other however seemed to get completely amped up over the exchange. He was fuming, baring his teeth like some kind of beast. "You lied. You stole! We gonna teach this fool or what Joe, huh?!" he breathed loudly through his nose, getting all worked up over half a critter what barely any meat on it.

The group turned to the one accused until the greying man stared them down. The girl drew in a breath and shook her head, already cursing herself for what she was about to do. The situation had tensed up considerably, and she knew she only had seconds until someone was getting the shit beat out of him. She swiftly lowered herself, as quietly as possible and snuck her way to the entrance, keeping her ears perched for noise inside. Now, blind of the scene, she neatly lined an arrow and crept inside, leaving the door ajar. Still unnoticed, as a few of the men had taken to beating the man with the stolen rabbit. She hid behind a car to observe the spectacle, counting six men, besides the man who was being shown about the room, and the ground in particular.

One of the men held him in a choke-hold as another pounded his stomach. She swallowed back her doubt and licked her lips. "Gentlemen, we get it, you're all pretty, can't you just piss on the things that are yours?" She remarked, causing every head to turn her way. She rose from her crouching and swiftly aimed her bow at the grey-haired man, taking him for the leader of this man of misfits. As they reached for their weapons she tutted "nu uh, lets not do anything rash now, or someone is going get a new air hole for their brain."

The greying man held up his hands, tilted his head. "We don't want no trouble girly, but you're interfering with business that aint your own." he said, his voice growing heavy with every vowel. 'God complexed bastard' she thought to herself, before eyeing the man with the dead rabbit in his bag. He had just been hanging there, looking at her, squinting, the hold one of the other men had on him apparently looser.

"Consider me your jury, being a neutral party and all" She decided, to which the man laughed. "we got a code missy, and unless you want to come and get to know us better, you'd best be off before we forget our manners, as you so clearly have" he threatened, his eyes sharp and piercing. He exchanged a few looks with his men, giving them orders she reckoned. None of them had actually spoken, overpowered by their alpha, until the accused piped up, gravelled and strained by the arm against his throat "C'mon man, she's only a girl. Leave her out of this" he called, attempting to grab the man by his coat, to which he was swiftly duked against the side of the head. The grey man let out a gruff of satisfaction before turning to the girl again. The rabbit man in turn looked at him with intense hatred, scowling and spitting on the ground in front of him. "Let's just kill her!" a bearded henchman yelled, scrunching up his nose.

She paused and counted seven men in total and eyed the one she would save. "I've decided" she rang, again claiming the floor. "He's to be taken into my custody" she smirked, nodding with her bow and tilting her head. The man in the beard, who had threatened her before, then pulled a gun, to which she turned and amply fired an arrow at him. Trusting her shot to be true she didn't hesitate before moving again. There was no way that she'd miss, not from this angle and not from this distance. She had been mastering the art of the bow for years. Her fascination originated from a slingshot and quickly worked its way to more powerful weapons

The arrow caught him in his hairline and toppled him over in a less than graceful manner. As the thud fell the others too drew their weapons and sent bullets her way. They ricochet off the metal walls, none of the men were particularly good shots, but she had to move nonetheless. She lowered herself and slipped to another car, its occupant having slid off and standing next to it, firing at her previous location.  
She drew and turned, ramming the arrowhead into the man's thigh, sliding behind him, finding a seat on the hood behind the beast of a man who now screamed. "Don't move" she breathed. Quick as she could she moved, drawing another arrow, and leaving it, aimed at the grey man. "Stop your fire!" she ordered, to which each of the men halted.

Her foot hovered over the arrow as she had once again drawn the attention of their leader. The beast hissed in pain, his arms flailing and reaching behind him to support himself, but she stopped him with a shove, knowing that any movement could rip the arrow and destroy her leverage. The grey one ordered his pets to a halt. "I've already killed one, and you might manage to get a bullet in me, but before you do, I'll break this arrow and knick this man's artery, and at the same time bulls-eye the old man, so now would be a good time to put down your weapons." She threatened his men, eyeing the man she was trying to save, who didn't seem to know how to react. The men eyed their leader, and with a nod of his head, they lowered their weapons.

"You're skilled, I'll give ya that" the leader said, shrugging and offering up his hands. "But you killed one of our men, there is no way we are letting you get out alive." he threatened in a calm and composed way as the bearded man was starting to dribble onto the ground. She squinted at him, smirking. "What purpose would that serve? I'll take down two of you, getting my count to three, you'll kill me, for a guy you were going to beat to hell anyway" she reasoned, tapping the beast that she used for a shield, with the side of her arm.

The grey man pulled a face as the beast was surely expressing some sort of suffering and fear, feeling too faint to stand for much longer. "He's not gonna last" she added, pressing him for time. "Wait wait wait" the grey man chimed, feigning sympathy before squinting "why do you want him?" He gestured at Daryl with a look on his face that could only be described as childish, as if he was pointing at the kid with cooties. To which she just shrugged, and sought his eyes. "He's good" the rabbit-man didn't stir at that, though she thought he might. Disappointed she turned back to the other man, who seemed to find her remark incredibly humorous, but before he could spit something vile her way, she wiggled her foot over the arrow, indicating the time for chatter was over. It had started to cramp up and this situation wasn't going to improve, it had to end, soon.


	3. Chapter 3

Life after the dead  
Chapter 3

Gentle hands ran over his skin, tickling and cold to the fever that coursed through his body. A weight on his chest and a strain on his muscles. He couldn't even distinguish what part of him was actually hurting, nor could he open his eyes or move his limbs to check. Trying to speak, he mumbled, tasting blood as he did. The hands withdrew from his chest and found his face. Cold fingers shifting his face, and cupping it, then a voice called him, unfamiliar and concerned for him. It was muffled by the blood rushing through his brain. "a-right, you-... safe. i- okay, you're okay." he managed to catch, before his headache claimed him again.

He couldn't be sure how much time had passed when he managed to open his left eye, it seemed to be daytime now, but he found himself in unfamiliar surroundings. Everything was blurry and yellow bleeding into all kinds of blotchy colours. He huffed and cleared his throat, testing his fingers which curled on command. He could move his toes inside his boots, but as he lifted his head, his torso screamed in agony, sending sharp pains to his head. He must have made too much noise as a figure came through the door. He wanted to say something, call out and threaten them, whoever they were but all he could manage were grunts and hisses, which he exerted as they came upon him. "Don't move" She warned him "you need to rest, your body needs to heal" she informed, which he disagreed with. He squirmed and flung his arm to find her. After several tries, which left his body in agony he found her, she had taken him by the wrist, slim hands and guided them to her shoulder. "I'm on the right. I'm not going to hurt you." she reassured him.

He turned his head to face her, following the sound of her voice and found a blurred vision with what he thought was blonde hair, in the light "Beth?" he managed to ask, his voice strained and gravelled. He pulled at her shoulder, darting his eyes over her, trying to identify her, but as she got closer, the blur adjusted and left him disappointed. For a moment he had dared to hope that he had found her again. The girl that hovered in front of him was far from the girl he had let down, and it almost reduced him to tears.

He huffed and snorted, eyeing the person in front of him as she came into focus. She seemed young, but worn, like everyone did these days. "Hey" she said with a smile. He wanted to reply to her and say something, ask her things, but all he could manage was a groan. His torso was bare and wrapped up with bandages and pads of some description. He could see blood stains on the white and blue and yellow bruise patches over his ribs, stomach and even his arms. He squinted as he tried to remember what had happened, his head started to pound as he tried.

He was in a girl's bedroom, from what he could tell. The walls were a horrible shade of yellow, as were the bedsheets and many of the ornaments. There were toys and clothes and things that didn't match up with the girl's age. She had to be over twenty, surely. He wondered if she had been the one to tend to his wounds. "Where am I?" he near barked, to which she seemed to roll her eyes. "You're safe. In a house not far from where I saved your ass."

He hissed as he started to remember the hours previous. There had been men, not unlike himself and an argument that would surely have lead to his death. He had known that he men he was with were bad, hell he had grown up with their kind. Foul-mouthed, angry, drunk, selfish and all together dangerous people had always been a part of his life and so he assumed he could handle them. He knew it would only be a matter of time before they turned on them, but he had hoped to be long gone by then, he just hadn't dare to leave. There was no place for him to go, the prison had disbanded and his people are gone. He had failed Beth.

He groaned and eyed the girl that hovered in front of him, pressing and annoyingly concerned with his well being. She had appeared out of nowhere, and had risked her life to save his for no apparent reason. It left him to wonder what she wanted from him, or if she had some sort of death wish. Why the hell was someone like her alone in the first place?

She had been cautious and gentle when binding his wounds, even though he was squirming to get away from her and grunting at her not to touch him. Her manner came unexpected, especially after her disposition at the car storage. She had been sharp and skilled and ruthless to the marauders there. She didn't even blink when she planted an arrow in one of them, nor did she when she had started to threaten Joe to secure his release.

If he didn't know any better he'd think she was a long lost relative, if not for the obvious difference between them. She would have been the bud of every racist joke if she were to ever come across Merle, or any other relative for that matter. She carried the same weathered expression as he caught himself wearing, the same tired and sharp eyes. Her eyebrows were lowered to the point where they started overlap with her eyes, and her mouth was nothing but a thin slit. There was a scar on her temple, and a hitch in her jaw, testifying to fights she had had at some point, nasty ones at that. The rest of her body was covered, but he could tell that her right hand had been broken at one point, and not properly set, two of her fingers were crooked and bumped at the phalanges. She would have fit in surely, if not for her skin.

"Rabbit-man, move your arm a little." she ordered, mimicking the desired actions, exposing her ribs. He pulled a face, he hated the nickname she had given him, but did as she asked, knowing she only meant to inspect the break. He sucked his teeth, as the girl went about peeling at his bandages, gently prodding and poking as if he was going to break under her touch, completely opposite from the behaviour she had shown before.

"It's Daryl" he corrected and watched as the girl's face lit up, nodding. She placed her hand on her chest and called herself Gwen. Daryl furrowed his brow at that, it was certainly not the name he was expecting, not with her looking the way she did. She made a face at him, tilting her head, forcing him to give way his thoughts. "but you're..." he started, and gestured at her generally. She then raised her brow and answered him quick and sharply "American."

Daryl swallowed back a comment he was going to make, afraid to offend her. He had not wanted to imply anything racist, so he simply nodded. He had just expected her to be called something like Isabella or Camilla or something latina like that, but admittedly he didn't know many. He had recognised her accent as foreign but he wasn't able to place it. It sounded nothing like the latinos they'd encountered in Atlanta. His guilt was short-lived however, she didn't seem to mind, she simply nodded at him and informed him that he should take a few days to heal up before doing anything.

"I'll see about getting you something to eat."

With that she left, stomping loudly as if the house needed to be intimidated, leaving the door ajar behind her. Daryl signed, his hand finding his face and pressing firmly against his forehead, squeezing his eyes shut tightly. He opened them again to the sound of his brother, Merle. "What are you doing baby-brother? Laying around, being all useless. It wasn't that bad of a beating, hell you've had worse! You're a joke, laying up in this mansion, getting rescued by a piece of tail, pathetic!" Merle cursed at him. "And what's the plan now huh? Play house with that Spick bitch?You gonna get her killed too? Face it little brother, you're not made to be around people. Couldn't even save that little girl, blonde piece, couldn't even save me..." He dragged out, springing tears to his eyes. "Shut up man" Daryl breathed, his voice betraying him as he drew the covers nearer his face, closing his eyes again so tightly he hoped they would never open again, but as he did he felt a pair of lips on his hairline, leaving behind a small kiss, a kiss he knew well, causing him to shoot open his eyes. He had expected to see Carol standing over him, smiling as she had done when he was shot by Andrea and she had brought him dinner, but he saw nothing.

God she would be a welcome sight now. To see her face, or anyone's would maybe make him feel less haunted. His mind blurred, like he had a thousand cotton balls between his eyes.

He could hear Gwen stomping back to his room, her boots digging into the floorboards loudly as if she weighed a hundred ton, before she kicked the door further open. He quickly swiped his arm over his eyes just in case and turned to her. She was carrying a tray with an three different cans, and a plate of something hot. He identified it as scrambled eggs, as yellow as the walls of the room, as she set it down on the bed. "Hey, uhh I didn't know what you liked so, I just brought a bunch of stuff.." she said, her voice trailing off as she started pointing out the cans. "Peaches, spam, and spotted dick, which is a sort of raisin cake stuff.. It's not bad." she said. Just at the sight of it his stomach had started to growl. He hadn't eaten properly in a few days, and here she was, bringing him enough to feed him four times over.

He gave her a look, not quite sure how to go about accepting and actually eating it. She in turn pointed at the fork beside the plate and urged him to dig in. Hesitant, he took it up and as soon as she did she started to ply off the lids. His hunger overtaking his hesitance, he started to scoop up and fork the egg into his mouth, not even bothering to chew. Then, after clearing half the plate he eyed her again. She had just been happily watching him, big eyed and intrigued as if she had never seen someone eat before.

"What?" Daryl snarled, pulling a face, to which she quickly shrugged, and picked half a peach out of one of the cans, shaking the juice from it before taking a bite. Though she shook it, with a single bite her lips and lower jaw were dripping with peace juice, which left for an all together unattractive image. She chewed happily for a second, her eyes darting about, clearly thinking of something to day. She used her sleeve to wipe her mouth between bites, which only added to the image. Daryl near came to a smile, as he looked at her. He started to fork more of the egg to his mouth, dug for a peach himself, and took turns with each hand. Daryl waited for her to mention what had happened, or at least say something about the filth she saved him from, but she didn't.

"Wow, you must've been starving" she remarked, her mouth still full making her voice sound sloppy. Daryl only huffed and chewed and rolled his shoulders as they had started to ache. "Got anything you like by the way? I've got a bunch of stuff downstairs and I could always have a look-" the suddenly stopped mid sentence, and rose from the bed, turning her head, her hand instantly finding the knife clipped to her belt. Daryl perched, a shot of pain coursing through him as he did. "What?" he hissed, quiet as he could, but she had already raised a finger to shush him.

She then quickly moved, retrieved his crossbow from the other side of the room and handed it to him, then he heard it too, the clattering of metal. "More than one..." she breathed, as she slid her knife back in its holster. She then reached behind her back and retrieved her bow and quiver, dropping it on the ground. They clattered and scratched as she swiped up a handful of arrows and stuffed them between her trousers and belt, and again when she swiped up a hand more. Serious and focussed she looked back at Daryl, who had already shifted out from under his duvet.

With big steps she took the doorknob in hand. "I'm closing the door behind me, don't come out, whatever you hear" she said, and left no room for argument as she had already stepped out into the hallway. Daryl grunted angrily, as his body refused to move as quickly as he'd like. He had needed the girl's help to get into that damned bed in the first place, and now he needed her again to get out of it. He had wanted to call out to her, tell her no, tell her to stay, tell her that they would go together, but she had been so damn fast. "God damned" he cursed, as he steadied himself. There was no way in hell that he was going to just lay there and let some kid fend for him.

Hissing and panting he moved to the door, holding out his crossbow in a crooked manner that his ribs demanded of him. Slowly and quietly he opened the door, and stepped out into the hallway. He followed it to the left, and down the stairs. A walked laid stretched out on the stone slabs there, a arrow neatly piercing his eye. He groaned, as he turned and raised up his bow again. Another corpse lay flat against the far wall, that one too had an arrow neatly stuck in its socket. Daryl drew in a breath, and made a turn to the right, crossing the room, finding the front door.

He pushed it open with his shoulder and found Gwen perched up on one of her traps, shooting down walkers that were spread across the yard. "Do you know how long it took me to set up those fences?! Huh?!" she screamed angrily as she bent down to kill one of the walkers that were clawing at her feet. She swiftly kicked another before her eye fell upon Daryl. They widened in anger "Get your ass back inside you lunatic!" she screamed, firing another arrow into a walker. Daryl in turn scoffed, cleared his throat and denied himself the pain. He swiftly fired an arrow into a walker's head, and glocked another in the face with his bow. There were only a few more stranglers, far from him, and his muscles couldn't bare another reload, but he put his foot down and dragged through nonetheless.

Gwen jumped from her elevation and shot two more walkers, strait from the draw. She drew an arrow out of one the heads and headed towards the last walker, but Daryl had already had it in his sights, and lined up his arrow, catching it right between the eyes. Pleased with himself he let out a noise, he turned to look at Gwen, to gloat over his kill but she was already stalking over, rage set in her eyes. He took a step back as she crashed upon him, prodding his shoulders. "Thought I told you to stay inside?!" he near screamed. Daryl's face scrunched up and old anger bubbled to the surface. "I don't take orders for anyone, girly! Least of all you" he bit, scrunching up his nose in irritation. She then sucked in a breath through her teeth. "well good!" she barked, catching him off guard.

She pointed back at the walker he had just nailed. "Cuz that, was one hell of a shot." she said in admiration and punched him against the shoulder. He let out a breath, nearing a laugh "Watch it, I'm injured." he joked, to which she nodded. "I'd love to see what you can do on your best."

She stalked back inside, leaving him with questions he desperately sought to have answered. But for now, he was fine with waiting a little longer. He didn't have anywhere to go anyway, and she was okay.


	4. Chapter 4

Life after the dead  
Chapter 4

It had been nearly impossible to keep Daryl in bed. He kept insisting that he was fine, and whenever she left the room he would wander about and she would have to bring him back like a child awake after it's bedtime. Worst was when she cleaned up her yard, dragging corpses from left to right, and he somehow appeared out of no where, as if he could smell in the air that there was manual labour to be done. He had taken up the legs of a corpse she was carrying, even though she protested and insisted that he had to rest. He didn't reply in any way or form, and so she just gave in, and let him help her carry the bodies, though he did so grunting and calling the dead all kinds of awful.

He didn't say much all together actually, which she didn't mind. The mansion wasn't as silent anymore, and she had already gotten used to his presence, though once or twice she had gotten startled by him and tried to knock him off his feet. The first time, Daryl too had been caught off guard and got hit against the head, the following time however, he caught her arm. He squeezed it and pulled her closer to him before pushing her away harshly. "you've got to stop hitting me. You'da think you never been round people before" he bit, to which she simply shrugged.

"Button it!" she muttered angrily "I haven't really, not for a long while, if ever." She admitted, giving Daryl pause for thought. "Whaddaya mean? You some wolf-child or something?" he asked mockingly, crossing his arms over his chest. Gwen couldn't help but chuckle at that. She turned from the fridge and leant against it, crossing her arms like Daryl had. "Nah, I would have welcomed that. I've been in prison for the last six years" she said lightly, as if she was talking about her favourite midnight snack, as opposed to her incarceration.

Daryl pondered if he should ask the next question, which she was able to tell. She pushed away from the fridge and lifted herself on top of her counter space next to it, and nodded at him. Daryl grunted and scratched his lower lip, trying to come off as casual. "What were you in for?" he rang with his Georgian accent. At that, the girl smiled for the first time, manically almost. He nearly felt compelled to take a step back, take precautions to keep her from him, but he fought against it and stood his ground. If she was crazy, he'd be able to take her, even if he was still hurting all over. Besides she had taken care of him and allowed him to stay in her camp so she couldn't be _that_ mental.

She started rolling her head and a moment later, she rolled her shoulders as if she revelled in the memory. She then nodded, noticing that Daryl had been waiting in suspense. "So's you killed somebody?" he tried, to which she shook her head. "He wishes!" she called, proudly.

She leaned forward, lowering herself so she could rest her arms on her legs. "There was this guy in our town. Rich, handsome, awful friendly you know. Helped out in the church, walked his elderly neighbour's dog, had a wife and two little ones, but there was just... something off about him. Something that wasn't right. Everybody knew, everybody felt it, but they just left him to his business." she started, her eyes getting angrier as she continued. With a will of their own, her hands had started to ball into fists. "He was a regular at our orphanage. He was doing the books for free or something like that, and he would just look at you in such a disgusting way, it'd make my skin crawl. Now I left that place when I was sixteen, and two years later he's arrested." She drew in a breath, and Daryl already shook his head, knowing where the story was headed.

"He had been touching the children, raping the girls, the boys, the littlest ones there. Nobody ever noticed a thing, or at least they didn't say anything" at this point she had started picking at her nails, chipping off the week old polish. "He was acquitted, because the police made a mistake, or forced a confession out of him. I don't know. But he walked." Daryl drew in a breath, people like that disgusted him. Men that took advantage of women or children, people too weak to fend for themselves, breaking them. It made his blood boil and his muscles ache to beat the shit out of something.

She touched his shoulder briefly and smiled again. "I found him, at the orphanage, doing the books, as if nothing had happened. Eyeing the kids that passed, even the ones he had had already, and every kid knew, and every adult knew and they just left him there. So, I incapacitated him" she said, sucking a breath through her teeth. "Cut off his hands, cut off his dick, and nailed it to his head. He's an impotent, handless vegetable now."

She was looking at his sharply, searching for a reaction, but instead of the disgust she had expected, Daryl nodded and snickered instead. Sure the brutal removal of a man's genitals was enough to make his own equipment ache, but his euphoria took over. "Damn bastard got what he deserved if ya ask me" he said, nearly smiling. "Shame you had to take a tour of the slammer for it though." She just shrugged and offered up her hands "Worth it." 


	5. Chapter 5

Life after the dead  
Chapter 5

As midday came Daryl went to find Gwen. She had insisted he rest two hours and he had reluctantly complied, he had taken to the yellow room he had rested in before, but he couldn't fall asleep as every time he closed his eyes he would see everyone he had let down and he couldn't breathe. So instead he eyed the ceiling, and looked through the boards against the window. The room was filled with all kinds of stuff that didn't make any sense. This had originally been a child's room, filled with toys and crayon markings on the wall measuring the kid's height. Truthfully it irritated him, looking at it. He had never known a life like it, and from what he had gathered, neither had Gwen. So why did she insist on staying here? There were other rooms, many from what he had seen, each as doable as the next.

About the room he had noticed candles gracing almost every corner, and even more burned out stumps. There were matches by the bed as well as a three different flash-lights, and an old CD-player which seemed to run on batteries. He had found a few packages of batteries in the drawers, frantically torn open at the sides, with many of them laying singly in the drawer, rolling as it slid from its hinges. He squinted, eyeing them but quickly closed it as he might seem prying, or even worse be caught doing it. Walking about the room he couldn't help but be curious. Gwen had told him that she claimed this house two weeks ago, and had lived there ever since. Those two weeks she had spent here, in this room, at least at night she had.

He then shook his head, if he wanted to know about her, he should ask her. Weirdly enough, even as they were only parted for no more than hour, he felt odd without her. The prison had ruined him, the group had. If he had parted with them when their first camp was attacked and they headed to the CDC, he might still be okay without them, without people, but now he couldn't bare to be by himself.

He drew in a breath and took up his cross bow, slipping it over his shoulder. "Gwen!" he shouted down the hallway, and only had to wait two seconds for her to answer and come running. "Daryl?!" she sounded panicked, her face flushed as she came upon him. As she noticed he wasn't in danger, nor that he had hurt himself in any way she pulled a face and rolled her eyes. "Don't do that" she scolded.

"What are you doing?" he asked, pulling at the strap of his bow, eyeing the bag she had thrown over her shoulder. "I was getting ready to head into the woods, I gotta clear the traps" she paused and looked at him, wondering why he didn't say anything in return. After all he did ask the question. "I could use your help actually" she then added and watched his face shift to relief before it turned back to the stern frown he seemed to always carry. "we're wasting daylight" he said, as a silence fell between them. "Yeah."

She took him into the surrounding woods, the first trap they came across was a big pit she had dug, and filled with sharpened branches, with two walkers trapped inside. Funnily enough she had put up signs all over the surrounding trees, warning people for the pit, and the surrounding traps. Below each sign hung a paper in a plastic bag, nailed tightly to the tree so no water could corrupt it. It specified that if they were blow the whistle that she would come get them and that they had nothing to fear. Daryl gruffed a laugh as he finished reading it, and fingered the cut out hole in tree, housing a referee's whistle. "Clever" he admitted, causing her to turn. "What if they aint friendlies though? Try to raid the house?"

She just shrugged and tilted her head, turning on her heel going back to her task. "Then they die."

Daryl scoffed and nodded, From what he had seen she was impressive with a bow, and seeing as she spent six years in prison, she was good at trading haymakers in all likelihood. Her scars testified of many fights with all different kinds of weapons and he had to admit, he was curious to hear about them. He had travelled with survivors sure, and the group had done extremely well even against incredibly adversity, but she seemed to be built for this stuff. As if she was been made in a cauldron for the simple task of surviving.

She had lowered herself into the spiked pit, apparently having left a clear bit at the sides, with a rope strung across the edges. Her hand slid over it. "so the non-dead can climb out, if they were dumb enough to fall in here, in the first place" she explained, as she leaned over to the one still moaning corpse and neatly shoved her knife into his skull, making it squish and slurp as she drew it back out. She then turned to the other one, but found it to be already dead, or at least, dead again.

"Give me a hand, will you?" she said, as she lifted the first corpse, off the spikes, dragging it over her shoulder, so she could grab it's legs to hold onto it. She then took the rope in both hands and pulled herself up as if she were in the gym beefing up for the summer season. Daryl bent down and took the corpse from her shoulders at the hip, dragging him onto level ground, his sides groaning at the lifting, but before he had dragged him no more than a meter away, she was already waiting with the next.

She eyed him impatiently, rolling them and letting them know she didn't like waiting. Daryl pulled a face, glad he never actually said that he was impressed with her. He took the corpse off her shoulders. As soon as she was rid of it, she lifted herself, dug in her toes and throw her other leg over the edge. With a grunt and a huff she stood upright next to him and pointed him further into the woods. "You fit to carry?" she asked, though he was already nodding before she had finished the question.

Though he didn't ask her, she helped him and lifted one of the dead so he could slap it over his shoulder. He winced as the weight came upon him, but he bit through it. Nodding at Gwen, before she could ask if he was alright.

They carried the bodies deeper into the woods till they came across a clearing, where Gwen had come across a great big pit. "Must have been a water basin of some description, back in the day" she had explained. The pit was lined with concrete, and already filled with charred corpses so gnarly that he couldn't tell how many of them were in there. She lowered the ghoul onto the ground and shoved it into the pit, before moving to Daryl, helping him to lower his, as he couldn't bend very well.

"We have two more holes to clear, and then the traps to check, you good to carry?" She asked, scanning his face, to which Daryl just sighed and jerked his head, for her to lead on.

They cleared a snare, and another pit, adding their haul to five walkers in total when Gwen raised her hand for them to stop. Daryl hadn't given any signs of exhaustion, or any indication of reluctance to continue, so when she slid down the side of a tree, and seated herself between the leaves he raised a brow. "what we stopping for?"

Legs sliding through the leaves, she whipped around her head. "Would you just sit down for a bit?" she said, again impatiently, nodding her head, padding the ground. "I thought we was gonna do some actual work" he bit, to which she rolled her head and her shoulders. "yea yea, we'll get right back to it, just sit down for a second will ya?"

With his usual nasty disposition, Daryl grunted a "fine" and leant against a tree opposite her. She looked different now, with leaves and dirt and blood stuck in her dark and unruly hair, smears over her skin and her clothes all dirty. She looked happier this way, messed up and sweating seemed to suit her more than the clean and smooth version he had met earlier. She seemed to be in her element out here, though she certainly didn't know the first thing about trapping game.

"You know you need to clear those snares every day, or at least check em. If you leave critters in there you'll just draw in the walkers" Daryl informed her. "Yeah, I know. I just don't have the time to make this round every day, not if I'm making runs too" she said, biting her lip. "Then why he hell did you take up this place? Or do you need a mansion to for fill some stupid ass white-picket fence Barbie dreamhouse dream?" he bit, getting increasingly more frustrated with this girl.

A silence fell between them, and soon enough Daryl was already regretting his temper, but he couldn't stop. "Why take it on?! You only need a roof over your head and a fire. You can't even keep it secure, it's been overrun three times!" he barked at her, fuming and breathing through his rage.

"Stupid bitch" he breathed as he started to cool down. She propped up her lips and nodded. "I'm planning on finding people, give em a place to stay. Help me guard the perimeter, grow some food" she started. In that moment she sounded not unlike Rick, when he went on his farming siesta. He kinda knew that already, that she had chosen the mansion to house a lot of people. He had seen the stashroom, and the basement. The cellar was stocked with enough cans and jars of food to feed an army. The stashroom was filled with things she had collected; toys, books, clothes, toiletries, hell she even had a stock of diapers though he had yet to see a baby besides little asskicker.

Thinking of her made him even more angry and put more vile in his mouth. "You can't even take care of yourself!" he spit, to which she quite dramatically turned her head and gave him a look. He snorted, knowing that had just made a mistake since what he said was just plain wrong. She had even saved his ass, and she didn't seem to have had any trouble staying alive this far. He was just making a cheap stab at her.

"Practise makes perfect" she just said, simply and softly, disregarding what he had said completely, and taking it as if he had admitted his previous admiration instead. It was the way she looked at him that made him feel something different. He had expected her to be angry with him, to be judged by her on his stupid ways and his even stupider mouth, but she hadn't. Ever since the end of things, he hadn't seen many like her, nor had he done before for that matter. She had only spent a mere few hours with him, and already she was looking at him with such acceptance, completely disregarding his rugged shell. His skin tingled and heated at her stare, forcing him to his feet. Before he could think of what to say, or even about what he wanted to say, he barked at her again.

"We're losing daylight!" he called, and had started walking in the direction he assumed the other pit would be.


	6. Chapter 6

Life after the dead  
Chapter 6

Even though the sky was darkening and dusk was falling, Gwen had yet to mentioned going back to the mansion. They had just thrown the last walker into the pit, and set it ablaze and she just stood there, watching the corpses burn. It had been several minutes, and she had yet to move a muscle, or even say a word. Daryl had assumed that was thinking about something, or making up her mind or something of the like, but they were at least an hour from the house and it would surely be dark before they got there.

Tensely she squinted at the fire, and shivered in the cold, till Daryl drew her attention. "So we going or what?" he bit, raising his brow and gesturing the general direction of the mansion. The fire would surely draw walkers this way, and he did not want to be anywhere near it when they got here. Gwen turned to him, and looked as if she had completely forgotten that he was even there. "You can head back if you want to" she called, and rustled in her rucksack to hand him a flashlight. Daryl eyed her hand and cocked his head "the hell you mean? What do you wanna stay here for then?"

She in turn, drew an arrow and stretched her legs, arched her back and made her joints pop, preparing for what was coming. "What are you doing?" Daryl asked, not making any sense of her actions. Angrily he pointed towards the now crisping corpses "that fire will draw them here, we gotta move!"

The girl shrugged and snorted. "I know. I'm gonna thin out the herd" she called, confident as ever. Bright eyed, as if she hadn't just spent at least four hours hauling corpses. She must be tired, exhausted even, he sure as hell was, so why was she risking herself like this? She had set traps, dug holes, the walkers would end up in there if they came anywhere near the house. 'Thinning' the herd was a ridiculous idea. What? Did she think that she could kill every last walker till there were none left?

"And you didn't think to run that by me?!" he hissed, to which she made the most perplexed expression, as if she hadn't even considered consulting him or warning him. "I said you could go if you wanted to?" she rang, offering up her shoulders, clearly not understanding his anger. Daryl sucked his teeth and drew in a breath. "Fine. Kill yourself for all I care..." he hissed, as he started to stalk towards the mansion. "Stupid bitch."

He left her there in that clearing, intoxicated with anger. She was being absolutely ridiculous, to risk her life for nothing. There was no goal to what she was doing, so why was she there in the first place? Did she get some sort of pleasure out of killing walkers or putting herself on the line? Was she completely suicidal? Saving him was one thing, but throwing her life away for no god damn reason?

His emotions fuelling his pace, little over half an hour later, he came upon the house. It was dark still, and eerie. He kicked the front door open and without even checking if anything had crept inside, he stomped up the stairs, chewing on the inside of his mouth. He'd snapped at her again, but it was her own fault for being so god damned ignorant. It was like she didn't even know how to be around people! That coming from him was saying something!

He eyed her yellow room, and swiped the can of cake off the night stand and dug his fingers in. He drew the curtains, and lit two candles before laying down on the bed. It was still too soft, the mattress felt like it was swallowing him whole. He had never slept in a bed like it, or in anything actually designed for comfort. He had once rested in a bed at Hershel's farm, after Andrea shot him and there was that coffin with Beth, but he was just borrowing then. Heck, he was borrowing even now. This wasn't his bed, it was hers, that stupid girl's. It was wrong, him being there. That girl was doing just fine on her own, she didn't need some country hick telling her what to do. She was going to realise that soon, and send him away, send him packing.

He lifted himself from the bed, groaning and heavy. Across the hall he found the bathroom, which he illuminated with the flash light she had given him. Here too the room was filled to the brim with candles, as if she were performing some sort of ritual as opposed to brushing her teeth. He lit the large one by the mirror and examined himself. He was dirty, blood and mud smeared over his face, caught in his hair, much like she was. He ran the tap over his hands, hoping the cool water would calm him down. He lowered himself and as the water splashed on his face he rubbed the dirt from his skin.

"Scrub all you want, that dirt aint gonna come off lil' brother." Merle rang, making him twitch. "Shut up" he breathed, spitting into the basin and closing his eyes before he rose again, afraid to see his brothers reflection instead of his own. But as he slowly rose and made eye contact with himself, with the face he hated so much. He snapped and swiftly sent his fist flying, shattering the mirror, screaming at himself. The shards had cut his knuckles open, and caused his face to contort in disgust as they had started to drip blood.

His eyes shifted over the hallway, looking and trying to remember the door to the stash room. Within two tries he had found it. It was a strange image all in all, people's possessions stacked up and organised, grouped together. There were lots of bags, filled with clothing, and racks with even more, though he had yet to see Gwen in anything besides those cargo-pants and long sleeves she seemed to love so much. He ripped open a backpack, and another one after that, looking for something to clean his wound, and fuel his anger.

He kicked over a stack of crates and threw a bag of sheets through the room, breathing heavily and whining a scream, chanting for his brother to shut up. "Not a single drop of booze in this joint! Not a single one! If you're going to gather all this shit, that'd shouda been the first thing on your list!" he cursed at Gwen. "God damnit!" he threw, before planting his boot in the wall, kicking a hole in the plaster. "Damnit!" he repeated, kicking again and again, keeping the tears away, until his muscles gave way. He was just so angry. Angry at the world, angry at the girl, his brother, Rick, his friends, everyone. He was angry at himself, for being the way he was, for leaving Gwen, for not being able to save those he held dear, those that needed him. His ribs had been screaming for a break ever since they had left the house, and he had run out of breath two hours ago.

He quickly drew a breath, hitched and pitched and infuriating to him as he lowered himself back onto her bed. He had slumped back through the hallway, not even bothering to light his way. Night had fallen, and Gwen wasn't back yet. He felt sick to his stomach, hands pulling at her sheets, only to find his hair moments later. He pulled at his hair, and smoothed it over a second later before he started pulling again.

He couldn't tell how much time had passed, nor did he know how long he had been staring at the door. He wasn't even sure if he was actually seeing anymore, or whether or not he had blinked in the last hours. He had slipped into a trance of sorts as his brother's words nagged at his brain, biting and scratching in the back of his head, until he heard the door swing open downstairs, followed by thundering footsteps, and within half a second She barged through the door. "Gwen!" he threw before rising from the bed. Her eyes spread wide open, sweat dripping from her forehead, her hair hanging limply and her arms just so, she stood there in the door, covered in dirt and blood.

"You're okay" Daryl breathed, stating as he took her in. She had two scratches on her arm, and another on her on her chin, but what disturbed him most were her red eyes, that were looking at him like he was a ghost. "Have you been crying?" he breathed, reaching out, to touch her arm. Did the cuts hurt that much? He pulled her over and seated her in the bed, and lit another two candles to light the room better and allow him to look her over. The cuts were nasty, but they weren't very deep. Gently, he ran his fingers over the skin, feeling if there was any dirt trapped inside that was distressing her so.

"I thought you had left me" she then said, limply, eyes icily staring at him.

Daryl swallowed down, and turned to look at her. She had been crying because she thought that he had left her. That must've been why she ran up the stairs in that frantic way she had, she would have been able to see the light from downstairs. Like a child scolded she sat with her hands folded onto her lap, not looking him strait in the eye, waiting for him to say something. He just sighed and eyed the wall instead "Look girl, I'm not going anywhere okay" he said, hoping to reassure her, it wasn't like he had anywhere else to go anyway. "I'm sorry I shouted at you" he added, before daring to look back at her.

She seemed to have perked up, or at least she seemed relieved. "Okay" she breathed, hers lips hinting at a smile. Daryl took a relieved breath of his own, and wiped his brow with his knuckles, only to see her face pale as he did. He yanked his hand from his face and pulled at the skin "What happened?!" she demanded. She herself had just spent the last few hours crying and breaking walker skulls, and she was worried over a busted hand?

She squinted at the wound, and with her free hand dug in one of her pockets and retrieved a small pouch. She kept a minimal first aid kid on her person at all times. She rolled out the pouch onto the night stand and Daryl observed a small vial of antiseptic, a needle with a spool of thread, and two rolls of bandages. "It don't need stitches" he grunted, as he tried to draw back his hand. She just squinted at him and gripped him tighter. "Try to keep still, it'll sting."

Daryl nodded curtly, well aware of the sting he was headed towards, it wasn't exactly the first time had had gotten injured, and some rubbing alcohol would surely be an improved method treatment as opposed to Merle rubbing dirt in it, to make him a stronger man. Cleaning his wound was an easy task, she had cleaned it, made a pad of cloth and wrapped a bandage round it, making sure he could still move his fingers. "How's that?" she mused, miming for him to move his fingers. It wasn't too tight, but in the bind she had obstructed one of his fingers, he didn't mention it to her though. He enjoyed her nimble digits dancing over his hand. He just nodded.

"Good" she called, and then stretched out her arm to examine the cuts there. She tutted and rolled her eyes, dissipating the fragility she had displayed earlier, before giving the cuts a splash with the alcohol. Daryl watched her flinch, but she wouldn't make a sound, though he knew very well it would hurt. "Whatcha reckon? Stitches or swallowtails?" she muttered, still pulling at her skin, and holding the cuts in the light. Before he could even answer she had let out a sigh and gotten up from the bed. She passed him and opened a box underneath the desk on the far side, and found some more medical supplies within.

Quite skilled at patching herself up, she finished up in no time, pressing the flesh together with one hand, and applying the tails with the other. Daryl watched her work, as she didn't ask for his help, and he felt too awkward to offer it. "Don't be such a girl..." Merle whispered in his ear, causing him to flinch. Instantly she reacted, her eyes wide open, her hand already reaching for the knife on her belt.

He quickly shook his head and made a sorry excuse "Neck cramp is all" he muttered, wiping his nose with his arm and rolling his head to convince her. She squinted and just nodded, probably too tired to argue or even to keep having a conversation. "Think it's about time we hit the hay" she mused, eyes already drowsy with sleep. Once more she eyed her cuts, and nodded, pleased with the result. She moved to untie her boots when it suddenly hit Daryl. He had slept in her bed the previous night, but he had absolutely no recollection of where she had been. Had she taken up a different room? Had she even slept at all?

She didn't seem to pay any attention to the situation until Daryl called attention to himself. "I'll go, take a different bed" he stated as she finally kicked off her boots. Nonchalantly she rolled her shoulders and stretched. "Nah, stay" she muttered as she rose from the bed, and started slipping out her shirt, wincing a bit as she did. Daryl averted his eyes, and gave the boarded window a good looking over, trying desperately not to look at her as she undressed. "I'll take the floor." he then decided, and she froze. "Daryl..." she dragged out, cocking her head at him. Carefully he looked at her from the corner of his eyes, assessing if it was safe to turn and look at her properly. As he did, he found her sitting in a green top and already shimmying out of her trousers.

Her arms were covered in scars, scratches and cuts, an old bullet wound in her left shoulder which was completely discoloured against her chestnut skin. And as she turned to get under the covers he discovered even more on her back. He could only see her neck, bits of shoulder-blade and a hint of her lower back, but almost every inch there was textured by old wounds. He identified another bullet wound, a smaller calibre than the other, a burn, and a puncture wound of some sort.

Her exposed skin hid from his prying eyes beneath the duvet, and it was only then that he realised that he had been staring and not answered her when she called his name. She was staring at him, squinting in that way that he was slowly getting used to. He eyed the room quickly, though he knew there weren't anything to make a makeshift bed out of, besides a chair in the corner. He'd have to leave and come back. He drew in a breath, and just as he moved to the door she called his name again. She jerked her head, gestured and it didn't hit him after a full five seconds later, that she wanted him to share her bed. Hesitant he cleared his throat, not quite sure how to react.

"No uhh- I" he started, before he had even thought of a proper excuse, which she seemed to be well aware of. She gestured once more, and made room for him, sliding to the left side of the bed. Daryl drew in a breath and grunted a "fine" and reluctantly moved towards her. He kicked off his boots, and decided against taking off anything besides them. His heart had started to pound as she opened the duvet for him, and he caught a glimpse of her tan legs against the blue sheets.

He wasn't used to sharing a bed, sure he had bedded a woman before but that was so long ago and so different to his situation now. Then his confidence was boosted by booze, eased by low expectations and smoothed over by his brother's insistence. The bed was bigger than a single, but not nearly big to be called a double. What would he do if she wanted to touch him, cuddle up to him or some pansy shit like that? He didn't like people touching him, and he didn't know how to- how to be gentle.

Awkwardly he hoisted his legs, as if his body had been made from wood, and settled himself beside her. His eyes spread wide when he encountered another problem, how was he to lie down? Face her, face away from her? He decided to lie on his back, his arms tightly pressed against his body, which she seemed to find funny as she shortly chuckled.

His cheeks coloured but he disregarded his embarrassment, and straitened out his thoughts. He crossed his ankles and took up as little space as he could manage and vowed that he would not move from that spot, his limbs wouldn't stray and he wouldn't touch her.

Afraid to work the dirt of his clothes into the bedding, he tensed up even further. He smelled awful, a day's work of sweat, dirt and walker blood stuck on him which must not be pleasant to lay next too. She too had a hard day of disgusting work, but he couldn't complain. He was passed minding things such as smells and scents, seeing as water, soap and other luxuries were hard to come by, never mind the actual time spent cleaning up and changing clothes. It was a waste of time, or at least it claimed time that they usually didn't have, not since they left the prison at least. She wasn't used to people though, what if his smell offended her? If she had been stuck in lady prison for six years the last thing she'd be okay with was a reeking redneck staining up her sheets.

Cold sweat ran over his neck, and his pits had started to clam along with his hands. He didn't dare to look next to him, and see her, minutes went by without a single word, or even an indication from her, any acknowledgement of his presence. He tried to control is heartbeat and his breathing but the tension was killing him. His skin screamed as he then felt a finger upon his arm. Panicked he whipped about his head, and wanted to pull away, but he instantly calmed as he looked at her. Gwen had fallen fast asleep, and her hand had merely folded open against his arm.

She looked calm and serene, laying next to him, her eyes gently shut and her eyes relaxed and without a frown, her hair tumbled freely around her, a few stray locks framing her face and draping to her shoulder and front. It had not been more than a few minutes since she had spoken his name, and now she was already out cold. "You must have been tired" Daryl whispered, surprising himself with the tenderness that laced his words.

He didn't dare to move Gwen's hand, afraid that she might wake up, not that he really wanted to either. He didn't mind her touch, or at least, not like this. It was accidental, nice, and he had to fight the itch in his own hand that begged him to to reach over his chest and take her hand into his. Before he had realised it, it had already moved, and hovered over her fingers. He sucked a breath through his teeth, and only let his fingers trace her palm once, before withdrawing it. Her hands were warm. She, was warm. He let out a sigh and let himself drift to sleep. 


	7. Chapter 7

Life after the dead  
Chapter 7.

The morning had started slow. Drunk with sleep and warmth, Daryl had opened his eyes, to find himself turned towards the girl, inches from her face. Sometime during his sleep he had shifted, and his hand had, despite his earlier reluctance, found hers. Fingers intertwined and her hand clutched to his chest, he had pulled her towards him. He didn't know when, or why it had happened, but he did know that he didn't want to let go. Drooping and sluggish his eyes trailed her and he noted that she had not woken up or moved at all during the night. She still lay there, curved towards him, her lips slightly apart and with her hair gently gracing her complexion. The cut on her chin had formed a scab, angrily red against her skin. He drew in a breath, and ignored his brother's rantings in the back of his mind, objectifying and cheapening her as she lay there so sweetly.

He had slept well, like someone had knocked his lights out. A deep and comfortable sleep that he didn't really want to wake up from, even now he dreaded the moment she would wake and snap him out of his snooze. In that moment, with her there sleeping next to him, and with her hand pulled to his chest, warm and safe, he almost felt human.

He had been laying on his side the entire night, or at least he assumed so, as his other had started to groan at the curve, his ribs complaining at the lack of movement and his frozen form. Soon he'd have to move, but not until she woke up, not until he was forced to.

It took her a few minutes more to wake up herself. As if she had been jump-started with a cable, her eyes flashed and her body started to contort into a stretch. Daryl quickly let go of her hand, and she arched her back and hyper extended her limbs, moaning and sighing in the feeling, she then twisted in the bed and did the same procedure with the rest of her muscles. Daryl didn't know how to act, or what to say, or anything of the sort, so in his panic, he closed his eyes again as she went about her stretch.

Gwen mumbled something incoherent before actually realising that she was, in fact, awake. She turned to Daryl, again shifting in bed, and placed her weight towards him, as if she was leaning over him. He could feel the air move, and her hovering over him. He had to fight every instinct to keep his eyes closed, to keep faking his sleep, as he desperately wanted to know what she was doing. She leant back to her side, and then again over him, before she made a sound he couldn't place. Then, against all expectations she slid back under the duvet, and crept closer to him. An arm snaked around his side, gently and slowly, carefully to avoid his ribs and she pulled herself against his chest, her head nuzzling the crook of his neck.

Daryl tensed up, not knowing what the hell she was doing. She was completely pressed against him, and he could feel every inch of her against his side. It wasn't until she tilted her head upwards that he flashed open his eyes and locked with hers. "What the hell?!" he breathed, as he launched himself off the side of the bed, creating as much distance between them as possible. He clumsily crashed into the night stand as the girl spurted a laugh at him.

"I knew you were awake!" she teased, seemingly enjoying the shock on his face. He quickly straitened himself, and shook off whatever warmth of hers was left on his skin. He looked at her, trying to figure out what the hell just happened, but she was just sitting there, pleased with herself as if she had just won a prize. She flashed her teeth in a smile before , whipping round her legs. "Let's get breakfast" she called, completely unphased and non-remembering what went down just the night before. She left Daryl standing there, his face flushed and his hands tingling with confusion.

It took him a few seconds to calm himself, cool down and follow her downstairs. He found her in the kitchen, tearing into the cupboards. She had picked up a sweater from the couch in the hallway, one too big for her, to Daryl's relief. He had gotten a look at her panties before, as she had leaped from the bed, and at least now that area was well covered, his hands may stop clamming up.

"Whatcha in the mood for?" she called, without looking at him. He just scoffed, and raised his shoulders, though she couldn't see the gesture. She pondered the cupboard some more, but in the end they just ended up picking from random jars she had put on the table. It was a weird assortment if ever he saw any, but it tasted good all the same.

During their breakfast he noticed that Gwen had a very odd way of eating, before every bite, she turned whatever she was holding around and again so she could look at it at different angles, as if she was expecting to find something wrong with it. Daryl just ignored it, and the question it raised as to why. His mind was already clouded with much stranger behaviour.

Gwen excused herself several minutes later, and told him that she was going to get ready, and that if he wanted, there were a bunch of clothes in the stash room, that he could help himself to. At first he wanted to disregard what she said, seeing as he didn't really care about his appearance all together, but then he remembered the mess he had made there, and the hole he had kicked into the wall.

He chewed up the inside of his mouth and quickly followed her to stop her before she went upstairs. "I-uh" he started, not quite figured out yet what or how to tell her. "Last night, I got angry. I.. I'll clean it up" he decided, to which she just pulled a face and nodded. With her brow still raised she went upstairs, only to sound a "what the.." when she presumably got to the bathroom.

Against his expectations she quickly reappeared again in the kitchen, just as he was digging his fingers into a jar of pickles. She had changed into overalls and another one of her long-sleeved shirts, even though it was hot enough outside to make birds drop dead from the roof. She already had equipped weapons, a knife at her belt, another in her boot, arrows in her belt as well as her bow strapped over her shoulder. "You goin somewhere?" Daryl muttered, still chewing his pickle, to which she nodded.

"Making a run into town. You can come with if you want" she stated, but then quickly rephrased it "Would you be okay with making- a ...run into town?" she said, repeating the same phrase in her head to make sure it sounded alright. Immediately improving on their last encounter, she assumed that Daryl wanted to be asked such things, though she didn't really understand why. He in return just nodded, consenting to the trip and offering his help.

Gwen explained that there wasn't anything they really needed, when he asked, but that there was stuff that she wanted. It had taken her a few months to stock up that much supplies, using her truck to haul them around with her wherever she went, her back-seat filled to the brim with cans, packs and bags of food that they domed over her rear-view, it had almost annoyed her at one point, and she was tempted to leave it all behind when there wasn't any room left in her pick-up for her to stash any big items she wanted to haul. It was then for the first time that she considered staying somewhere permanent, and settled into the mansion.

The pharmacy in the next town over was their goal for the day. She wanted to stock up on medicine and bandages and if at all possible, personal hygiene products. It was hard enough being a lady in general, but adding in the apocalypse it became downright near impossible. There were never enough pads or tampons to safeguard her for the entire period, and she did NOT enjoy sitting in her own filth. She had tried two months to keep it at bay by using two pill cycles after one another, but she had gotten horribly sick, and she had completely run out.

The car was hot, and smelled like burnished leather, a scent that Gwen really liked as it hid other unpleasant smells, such as the blood in her hair. She hadn't cleaned herself up yet, seeing as they were very likely to encounter more of the dead on their run, and she didn't want to waste the soap on two individual showers in the same day. But she regretted her decision as her rather filthy hair was hanging in front of her face, and she could smell the ick that was in it. She eyed the man next to her, sitting stoic and still, hand on his crossbow, his eyes fixed on the road. Though, when she called his name, he quickly snapped towards her, eyes wide and prepared. "Lend me your hand for a second, take the wheel" she said, already letting go of the steering wheel.

Daryl quickly took hold of it, with one hand, and eyed her angrily "What the hell?" he hissed. Gwen's hands reached into her hair, gathering it at the back of her head. As Daryl realised that she was putting up her hair he scoffed in annoyance. Stupid girl had endangered them to do her fucking hair. Uncomfortable in his position he edged her on to quickly finish up and take the wheel back from him, but she took her sweet time. Her hair was thick and unruly. Even after carefully being fastened in a hair tie, locks and stray hairs sprung from it's grip, making her look as messy as she had before. She however, seemed quite pleased with the result and nodded at her reflection. She took the wheel from him, and said nothing, inducing yet another long silence. But Daryl didn't mind, it was okay to just be for a little while.

After an immeasurable amount of time she arrived at their destination. The street in question only carried half a dozen walkers which would be cleared easily enough. She pushed open her door and swiftly moved out of the vehicle, reaching behind her to retrieve her bow and a backpack. Daryl too slipped out of he truck and instantly started firing. He shot the furthest one clean between the eyes and planted his knife in the one nearest to him. He shot a glance to the left and watched as Gwen quickdrew two arrows and sent them whistling into two different walkers. He admired her shooting as it was quick, clean and surprisingly accurate. He had only once seen someone use a bow like her before, it was a show at a carnival when he was only a few years old. A man threw up apples and another shot each one clean in the centre, it was fast and impressive. He had loved every minute of it, and watching her brought back that fond memory. He took his crossbow in hand again and reloaded an arrow, knowing that she would have long killed what ever was left standing by the time he had finished.

She gestured for him to follow, and they stepped into the pharmacy. Three walkers, gnarling and angry. Daryl moved to the right, Gwen to the left, each plunging a knife into their skulls. Daryl stabbed again, making sure he had gotten the stem of the brain, as Gwen took to kicking hers in the head once more before moving on. Daryl dodged the last walker, as she clawed at him, her face rotten, bloody and absolutely revolting. He drew back his arm and slid her face open to make her shift, he moved and pressed her against the shelves, gripping her neck tightly, and plunged his knife into her temple, making a horridly squishing noise.

Daryl pulled a face and released the creature, letting it slump onto the floor. He eyed his hand for a second and flung the bits of rotten flesh from it before moving in further. "That's all of em" he concluded and stepped away from the shelf so he could look at Gwen. She however seemed fixated on the wall next to her. He called her name and joined her to have a better look at what had caught her attention. "That blood is fresh" he deduced, running his fingers over the bright red smear that coated the walls. It was minimal, but at an odd angle, it would have to have been a head wound, but if it had been, there should have been more blood. Gwen shot him a look, silencing him. His heart began to pound, focussing on his ears to pick up any noise, any shift that they hadn't made. The apothecary was quiet, eerily almost, and he was about to dismiss it he heard a whimper in the back room. He signalled Gwen and alerted her, pointing at the door.

Understanding, she lowered herself and held up her knife. Daryl moved to the door, gripping it with one hand, nodding at Gwen to make sure she was ready. She sharply nodded herself, and prepared herself to strike. He drew open the door and watched as her eyes widened. She scrunched up her nose and grunted angrily as she stepped forward and rammed her knife into a walker's head. Her hand reached for the corpse before it hit the ground, and pulled it into their part, crashing it against a counter. Daryl opened the door further, and stepped to see what she was looking at. "What the?" he said as he looked at the counter-space against the far wall. Gwen's brow furrowed and looked at Daryl for answers.

The counter space had a smear of blood on it's doors, which wasn't all together that strange, but what did strike them as unusual was the fact that it had been locked. A piece of rope was strung between the two handles and wrapped around a few times to keep it closed. Daryl's mind instantly shot to Sophia. The space was small enough to hide a child, and if the parents were being over run, it would be the only way to draw it out of the line of fire, keep it hidden until they could return. Or maybe they tried to save her, keep her from being bitten as their situation worsened. Maybe they had already been bit.

Gwen seemed to understand him, and knew what he was thinking. She lowered herself to the ground and softly called out. "Hey, is anyone in there?" she cooed gently. "We aint gonna hurt ya" Daryl added as he too stepped closer to the counter. He drew in a breath as he considered the possibility that the blood may have been from a bite, and that the child inside had already turned. He motioned to Gwen to take heed and be careful as she began to unwind the rope. "We're going to open the doors now" she let the child know. Carefully, she opened the doors, a foot behind her steady on the ground, preparing to turn and throw whatever was inside if it was indeed hostile.

Daryl quickly drew in a breath as the doors revealed a small black girl, hugging her knees. Lights caught her glistening eyes and the tear stains on her cheeks as she shifted to look at them. The grip on her knees tightened, but she didn't make a sound. Instinctively Daryl slipped the strap of his bow off his shoulder and distanced himself from the weapon. He stretched an arm out towards the girl and gently spoke to her. "S'alright. You're safe."

The girl didn't stir, and just looked at him with fearful dark-brown eyes. "Here. S'aight" he again tried, talking as softly as he could manage. The girl pressed her lips together and shook her head quickly to the sides. Daryl pulled a face and looked to Gwen for help, hoping her being a female would lure the child out of the counter. She however stared at him blankly. He then again nodded his head towards the girl, to which she seemed to understand.

As if she were stalking a pray, she shifted her legs and put herself in the girl's line of sight, stretching one leg and shifting over her body, hardly making any noise as she did. She was now a few meters away from her, allowing her to see her completely. She eyed over the little girl, pale with hardly any meat on her bones. She must have been in there for days. A tiny water bottle, empty beside her "at least your parents were smart" she said to her. "Gave you water, you can only go a little while without it. They kept you alive, so we could find you" she reasoned, causing Daryl to raise his brow. Why was she trying reasoning with her? The child couldn't be more than four years old.

"They saved your life, but that's alright now. We'll keep you safe" she said as she folded her legs and seated herself as if she were a Buddha. "Come here for a sec, you must be hungry" she called, whipping around her rucksack, digging in it for something. To Daryl's surprise the girl moved slightly, her hands were loosening their grip on her legs. "Whatcha in the mood for?" she asked the girl the same question she had asked Daryl not too long ago. He almost cracked a smile at that, maybe she assumed that food directly correlates to another person liking you.

The girl had yet to say anything, but the promise of food had lured her from under that counter, though she still kept her distance. Instead of being kind, or motherly like Daryl had expected, Gwen just called out to the girl like she was already hers. "C'mon, get some meat on your bones" she called as she pulled some vanilla wafers from her bag. Slowly, but surely the girl came to her, clutching her arms, panicky and looking over the room as if they were going to do something to her.

Hesitant the girl held out her hand to take one of the wafers from Gwen, and it wasn't until she had actually put it in her mouth that Gwen spoke again. "There we go" she said, harshly and rough in her usual way. She looked at Daryl, and cued him to join them. He shifted and tried to stay as low as possible, making his way over so he wouldn't tower over, and scare her. "My name's Gwen" she said, holding her hand to her chest to indicate that she, was in fact called Gwen. She then pointed at him, and he reluctantly did the same.

He held his hand to his chest and muttered his name "Daryl." The girl then turned to him, eyes wild and bewildered, chewing sloppily on her wafer and nodded. She acknowledged him before turning back to her wafer. Gwen offered her another one, and another one after that. The girl ate them all, greedily and sloppy, crumbs coating her little blue shirt. Daryl eyed her over, but as far as he could tell the girl had not been injured, which meant the blood must be someone else's.

Gwen then slowly reached out her hand, and reached for the back of her head. Instantly at her touch, the girl began to cry. Tears slid down her face, and she began to mewl at the slightest show of affection. Startled by the little girl Gwen quickly withdrew her hand, and chanted a "no no no no" to her, in hopes to make her stop crying.

Instantly Daryl moved into action and called out to her. "Hey hey, it's aight, sweetheart. You're aight" he said, his hand resting on her shoulder. The girl only started crying even harder after he spoke and touched her shoulder. Tears dribbled over her cheek, snot bubbled at her nostrils. "It's aight" he again started "Let it all out, make ya feel better" he said softly as the girl grabbed his arm. At that Daryl rose and instantly moved to pick up the child, he held her to his chest and let her cry into it. The girl started to hiccup in exhaustion, and claw herself tighter to him, pulling at his shirt. He wrapped his arm around her back and held her as tightly as he could without hurting her and let her cry until she felt better.

She shook and she wailed, and it was breaking Daryl's heart. "There, there. It's-all aight, sweetheart. Let it out" he whispered, gently swaying let to right to sooth her. Gwen stared at him with wide eyes, cocking her head to look at him better, she squinted and studied him as he cradled the child.

Daryl looked like he was be a good father, though she didn't exactly what would qualify someone as a good parent. She herself had never had any parents. Given up at birth and adopted by the state she hadn't ever been familiarised with family. She knew what children needed to survive, but didn't know how to give it to them. She could provide for them and teach them to take care of themselves, but she didn't know how to make them feel better. She didn't know how to sooth the girl, and didn't know what would make her stop crying. While Daryl instantly knew what she needed. She wondered if he was a father himself.

It was a only a few minutes until the girl stopped crying, and hung limply in his arms. Initially he panicked, thinking he may have squeezed her too tight, or that she had been smothered in his chest. Gwen however held up her hand and shook her head "She's just exhausted" she rang and picked herself up from the floor.

"You good to carry?" she asked in a similar way as she had asked the day before when they hauled corpses to the pit. Daryl just nodded and rearranged the girl's weight to make it easier on himself. The girl didn't weigh much at all, he'd carried game a lot heavier, heck, he'd once dragged a buck for god knows how many miles to get it back to the cabin. He wasn't about to give way to a girl that didn't even weigh more than a bag of potatoes. "I'm fine." 


	8. Chapter 8

Life after the dead  
Chapter 8

The ride back had been surreal at best. Gwen had cleared out the pharmacy of everything useful, and had ordered Daryl to wait in her truck. He had offered to help her carry stuff, but she simply refused. Told him he was carrying something more important, told him to keep her safe while she gathered what they needed. Reluctantly, he had carried the girl to the truck, and had planned to set her down in the back seat, wrap her up in that shaggy blanket Gwen kept beneath her seat, give her somewhere comfortable to sleep. But as soon as he even moved to her go, her grip tightened on him. He was pretty sure her tiny nails had already poked holes through his shirt, as she was scratching his chest as he moved.

Gwen had found it rather funny, how the girl clung to him like a little monkey. She had met up with him about ten minutes later, with a rucksack of supplies and two first aid kits she had found in the back and restocked. She had intended on hitting a few more buildings, but as the child was rather compromising to their position, they were forced to call it a day. She was even going to drive away if Daryl hadn't stopped her.

"Hey hey wait" he called, as she turned the ignition. "What if her parents are still alive, what they come back for her?" he rang, scrunching up his face as he spoke. She just stared at him, clearly not understanding what he was getting at. "We should leave a note, tell them she's safe, with us" he tried to explain, though he got as much reaction as he could expect from a wall. Then, a twinkle hit her eye and she reached into the back, retrieving a can of spray paint. "The parents, they can come live with us" she said quickly, before getting out and jogging back to the pharmacy, leaving Daryl dumbfounded.

"yeah, well...that too..." he said to himself as he watched her arch herself to leave a wide message on the door. Her whole demeanour had changed from angry and harsh to chipper and almost girly. He was sure she was smiling, leaving that message on the door.

_Child is in safe hands, wait here. We'll be back for you everyday._

Gwen had been chatty the entire drive, while she was usually a quiet person all together, she was gushing now. She told him about how excited she was, and how glad she was that they found that girl. She told him her plans for keeping the girl safe. When they got back, they would have the child sleep in her bed, and they could shift some bedding from the other rooms to make due on the floor, so that she wouldn't be alone when she woke up. Daryl had nodded, agreeing with her but wondered why she was so very keen on him staying by her side. There were plenty of rooms, and he could understand her desire to stay with the child, but to have both of them there seemed a little excessive.  
During the drive, as a silence had fallen once she finished her rant on safety for the child, she had shifted to face him. Daryl had wanted to scold her for not looking at the road, but she already shifted back once she asked her question. "So, who were you? You know- before?" she asked, glancing between him and the road regularly. Daryl drew in a breath and chewed the inside of his cheek. He knew that she was going to ask about his past at some point, but had just hoped that she'd give him a little more time. He didn't exactly have the best track record in the world and he'd hate to admit to all the losses they had suffered. The losses he had suffered.

"Were you always with those nomad douchebags?" she pressed, to which he immediately shook his head. "Had a group, before. Not like them assholes, they were all good people" He started, surprised how easy it was to tell her. He had expected his throat to close up, or to lash out in anger, but he was surprisingly okay with it all. She looked at him, and cocked her head, urging him to continue. "We had us a prison, kept everyone safe. We had us a life there and a good one too. There was this man, called himself the governor, who ran a town nearby. He launched an assault against us, blew holes in the building, ran our fences down, opened it up to walkers. We were out gunned, but still took every last sumbitch down. Didn't matter though, Prison was lost."

Gwen nodded "You got separated?" she then asked, to which she shrugged. "Most of them were killed" he breathed, his voice giving way to his bubbling emotions. He cleared his throat and took to biting the nail on his thumb. Silence again took the car, and he drew the little girl closer to him, glad of the comfort she offered. Gwen reached over and gently squeezed his shoulder. "Thanks for telling me."

He had carried the girl inside and had planned on setting her down gently on the bed, but again, as she had done in the car, the girl didn't let go. She simply dug deeper into his shirt. She wasn't even concious and still she would not be parted from him. He would have thought it sweet, if Gwen hadn't started laughing as he tried to lay her down. "She really likes you huh" she bit, her lips curling upwards, her teeth showing. He had to admit, he liked seeing her smile but he would have liked it even better if it hadn't been at his expense.

He had thrown her a look, practically begging her to take the girl off him, but she wasn't having it. She left to organise their haul and left him, sitting on the bed with that girl koala clutching to his chest. "You're a real piece of work, little lady." He breathed, prodding the child in the shoulder.

A few moments later, Gwen reappeared, leaning against the door frame, looking at him with tenderness. "What?" Daryl bit, frowning at her, waiting for her to start laughing again. "You look good you know" she started "With a kid I mean."

Daryl raised a brow at that, but softened as he looked back down to the girl. "Yeah?" he asked, to which Gwen nodded in her usual way. "You'd make a good dad" she added, and left her frame to come sit by him. He didn't like admitting it, but what she said made him feel good. He had never had the possibility of a family of his own, but he had always wanted one. He never once thought that he'd make a half decent parent, stupid and angry as he was. It wasn't exactly like he had the best example at home. He thought himself too rough and too broken to care for a kid.

"Hold her still okay, I'm gonna check for bites and scratches" Gwen called, her hand finding his shoulder to steady herself presumably. Trying to be as gentle as she could, she slowly lifted the girl's shirt, poking and stretching her skin in search of injuries. The little girl breathed in a melodic way that soothed even Daryl. Listening to it was a welcome change to the usual snarling for walkers.

Gwen shook her head, concluding that the girl was in fact without injury, then she slipped her hands under the girl's armpits and lifted. "C'mon little wombnugget, time to let Daryl go" she said. Daryl moved to untangle her little fingers from his shirt and Gwen took her up, seated her on one arm and let her lean against her chest. "There we go" she muttered. Daryl quickly shifted off the bed and made way for the child. Gwen lowered her and tucked her in gently before turning to Daryl, the ghost of a smile on her lips.

Pleased as punch she seated herself next to the child, and ran her hand over the girl's hair. By the way she was acting you'd think the girl was her own, or that she at least had had a child of her own at some point. However Daryl was too afraid to ask, or at least too afraid to hear the answer. He had once already made her cry, and he wasn't about to bring around a second bout.

"Haven't seen a kid in years" she then said "kid that hadn't turned that is. Isn't she beautiful?" Gwen muttered, preening the girl's curly tresses. Daryl hummed a "hmhm" and too turned to the child. They never thought they'd see another child, least of all one this young. She may as well have been a unicorn for she was just as rare. 


	9. Chapter 9

Life after the dead  
Chapter 9

The girl woke up a few hours later, as the sun had already begun to set. Daryl had been gathering firewood for the courtyard when Gwen called out to him. Her voice sharp and excited "She's up!" Immediately he dropped the log he had been hauling and barged back into the house, taking the stairs two steps at a time he flew to the bedroom.

And there she was, snuggled together with Gwen, cute as two little bugs. Gwen had wrapped her arm around the child, mimicking Daryl's movements from earlier that day, and she in turn clung to her as if she was clinging to dear life. "Hey there champ" Daryl muttered, smiling down at the child, as he approached her. He dropped his crossbow by the door and knelt down by the bed. The girl looked him over, eyes wide and beautiful, making a face he couldn't quite place. "How are ya feeling?" He said softly, taking the hand she had offered him. The little girl just nodded, letting him know that she was in fact okay.

"She had yet to speak" Gwen explained, running her hand through the girl's untamed hair. "Maybe she can't talk" Daryl answered to which Gwen shrugged. The girl however didn't respond, and took the poking his leather jacket instead. "Maybe she deaf" Daryl opted, to which Gwen shook her head. "Tried sign language, she didn't respond to it" she muttered.

"Ye know sign language?" Daryl asked, surprised, as she was clearly without handicap. Gwen snickered and shrugged. "It gave me something to do in prison, isolation does a real number on your sanity. It kept me busy." She answered. Daryl's heart fell at her answer, he hadn't realise that the six years she had spent in prison were six years in isolation, but he should have known. With her crime being that violent in nature the guards would not have risked putting her into group cells, or even allowing her into the common areas. A sting of pity rushed through him as he looked her over. No wonder she was so keen on finding people. She'd been orphaned and imprisoned and from what he could tell her character wouldn't have made her many friends while she was young neither. He shook his head, angry for the childhood that she had suffered.

"But I do speak 5 languages now, so that's pretty rad" she chimed, flashing a brief smile at him, before her eyes fell to the child again. She sounded different when talking about her past, her eyes would become dull and without spark, especially if she talked about her life in prison. It was funny, in a way, that he and his group had found refuge behind bars, and she was broken behind them. Daryl nodded at her. "Yeah."

Evening came, and the three of them sat down for dinner. She had made the child some porridge or at least something similar and she had gobbled it up within a minute. Holding up her bowl she chimed for some more, which Gwen was more than happy to give her. At least making grub was something she knew how to do. They ate in silence, something both of them were more than used to. Each wanted to break it and start a conversation but neither really knew what to say. So they just ate, and made small comments about passing the jam, and offering each other peanuts and commented on the child's appetite and how good a girl she was for eating. Daryl now and again reached over to clean the slop off her face with his thumb, or wipe her chin when she tried to take another bite without swallowing the previous. It struck Gwen as odd, seeing as her companion wasn't exactly the most gracious when scarfing down his own food, but he seemed to care when the girl was concerned. Maybe he did have kids of his own.

Then, after the cans emptied out, and the girl started to slowly drift back to sleep, Daryl planted her on the couch. They had dragged the furniture from the second sitting room out into the courtyard, so they could sit by the fire. He added some wood to the flames before sitting back down beside the child, who instantly grabbed hold of him. The warmth, the comfort and peace of the mansion was enough to almost lull him to sleep right there, and he might have, it Gwen hadn't spoken then.

"There is a place" she breathed reluctantly, immediately earning Daryl's attention. He shifted and leaned forward to hear her better. "g'on" he urged. Gwen looked solemn and strained, as if what she was about to say was the worst thing yet to pass her lips. "They say they're a sanctuary, and all that go there will be safe. It's called Terminus" she started, her hands glued to her jaw, connecting over his chin. "They have maps everywhere, so people can find them. Your friends might go there, if they survived."

Daryl was about to snap, and bite at her for not telling him this sooner, but as his second thought crossed his mind, that there was something wrong with the picture. If there was a sanctuary, why wasn't she there? After all she knew how to get there, all she'd have to do is follow these maps, right?  
A sanctuary, it sounded too good to be true, and why would they take in everyone? There had been many, among which himself that had been changed by the last year. They'd come across many people over the year that ought to be shot on sight, and this place would just take them in? No questions asked?

"It's a trap" Daryl concluded, to which Gwen nodded. "I've been there, observed from a distance. For a place that takes in everyone, there's too few people. There's only about two dozen of them. It doesn't add up." There was only one explanation for it, the people there killed the ones arriving, probably looted them for what they had, keep themselves stocked up. They'd never even have to leave their building. It was absolutely messed up, but very clever.

"They'll go, but they won't go unarmed, they'd scout the place first. They aint stupid" Daryl breathed. "Rick knows a trap when he sees one, assuming he survived. There aint no way he'd lead his kids in there."

Gwen just hummed a "hmhm" staring into the fire. The fire lit her in a warm glow, but her eyes were cold as ice. Emotion had drained from her, it was an expression that Daryl knew well. Acceptance. She knew that from the moment she told him about terminus that he would leave, to try and find the remnants of his group, and she would be left. She would be alone again.

He chewed the inside of his cheek, trying to find some words that she'd find comforting and trying to make a decision on what to do. He didn't have the heart to leave her by her lonesome, but he wasn't about to give up on his friends neither. If there was even the slightest possibility that they were still alive, he had to at least make sure. He drew in a quick breath "We'll wait" he started, causing Gwen to whip about her head.

"Till her parents show up" he said, gently touching the little girl's head. "And we'll go together."

Gwen's eyes lit up, her face contorting in confusion "together?" she whimpered, as if she had never heard the phrase before. Daryl nodded, looking away from her, not quite knowing how to deal with her reaction. "Yeah, we'll go 'n find'm, you and me" he elaborated, his skin heating and tingling with embarrassment and discomfort. He could see her rise from her seat from the corner of his eye, and could feel her coming towards him. The hairs on her arms tingled as she now stood in front of him. Reluctantly he turned his head to look at her, but when he did he instantly regretted it. Gwen stood in front of him, beaming a smile, her eyes glistening with unshed tears, her cheeks coloured in a rosy red, and it sent his body into shutdown. His heart had stopped, and his lungs had quit, and as she got closer to him, and cupped his ear he was sure he was going to die.

Then, as if it was the simplest thing in the world, she planted her lips on his sweaty brow, gently and softly she left a kiss there. She hovered in front of him for a moment, her face practically cut in half by her smile, then her lips moved again "Thank you" she whispered. He didn't mean to let it affect him, or let her affect him in general, but in that moment he felt better than he had in a long while.


	10. Chapter 10

Life after the dead  
C10

Daryl couldn't sleep that night. They had moved two mattresses to the yellow bedroom, and put the girl up in he bed. The little one had only briefly woken up as Gwen had moved to change her into something softer than he jeans she was wearing. She had given the girl a shirt that was slightly too big for her, which Daryl found quite funny. Gwen had stocked up on all kinds of clothing, but there was nothing in he little one's size. She had whined a little and swayed from side to side like a little drunk as Gwen tried ever so desperately to change her. The moment she was done she drifted back into a fast sleep. Gwen said that she was healing that way and he was inclined to agree with her. Sleep was the best medicine against every ailment, physical and mental. People needed time, and peace, and so did that little girl.

Daryl had taken her from Gwen and tucked her into bed. Again like before, during the transfer she had clutched herself to his chest and only let go when Gwen pulled at her hands. He felt light and almost giddy as he put the girl to bed. He wasn't stupid enough to think her to be his, or to think that he could care for her forever. In all likelihood her parents would come back and take her away, but for just now, she made him feel okay, even if the sight of her triggered his memories.

Gwen had beckoned him to bed, she herself exhausted. He didn't know when she had changed, but he was glad that she chose to wear shorts to bed this time. Daryl had just taken off his crossbow, and set it down beside him. Gwen had offered him a change of clothes but he had declined. He wasn't about to take off his kit in front of her, or have her see him in any state of undress. Like the night before, he had taken off his boots, but when he moved to blow out the candles, Gwen had practically shouted at him to stop. "I like seeing things" she had said, though he didn't understand why. It wasn't like she actually woke up during the night, and them candles were a fire-hazard if ever he saw one. Though irrational and clearly wrong, he nodded at Gwen and did as she asked.

Gwen had shoved the two mattresses together, to Daryl's annoyance, but he wasn't about to complain. He'd be fine, as long as she didn't touch him. However, as the night pressed on, and Gwen fell asleep, he make himself comfortable enough to sleep. He'd slept on floors most of his life, so it wasn't that he wasn't comfortable, and their situation wasn't different from the night before, yet he couldn't fall asleep. Gwen had folded herself, her hands together and resting next to her hair as if she had fallen asleep praying. Her ponytail had shifted to the side of her head, and even more hair had sprung free from the tie. Daryl considered clearing her face of hair, gently brushing them aside, but as soon as he thought of touching her, his body started to tingle.

He could still feel her lips on his forehead, even though he had wiped it with his arms at least a dozen time. He had even splashed some water in his face, but he could still remember it vividly and it was driving him nuts. Gwen was seriously screwing with his head. She had more mood swings than a calender had Sundays. One moment she was cold and harsh, the other she did things like- like kiss his head, and cuddle up to him, and smile in that way that made him want to scream. He turned her head to take her in and she was just as lovely as she had been the night before.

It had been hours since she had fallen asleep and he had spent most of that time counting her breaths. For an hour or so, a lock of hair had covered her nose, and with every exhale it had moved slightly. He had studied her, and thought himself lucky to have been found by her. He too let his eyes close for a moment, only to be woken immediately after.

But as he opened his eyes, the ceiling had changed. It was no longer the weird pale yellow, but a light blue instead, and as he turned to look at Gwen she was already awake and looking at him, bright eyed and surrounded by more blue. She flashed a smile, and before he could say anything she leant towards him and gently pressed her lips to his. His eyes flashed open to see her tender lashes closed and inches from his face. Her hand found his side, and brought herself closer to him as she parted her lips to kiss him again. She claimed his lower lip as hers, before slowly pulling away. "Good morning" she whispered, her voice sounding different, looking at him kindly, her hands resting on her chest. Her expression however quickly changed as he remained silent. "You okay, Daryl?"

He was stunned, frozen in place even. Confused and disoriented he pushed her from his chest and rose. He found himself in a room completely different than the one he was in just a moment ago. He found himself in a big queen sized bed with thick blankets, there were night-stands and a closet with robes on hangers hanging from the doorknobs, there was a chair in the corner with a stuffed animal, and next it a crib with white arrows painted on it. He was in a completely different house. His breathing grew laboured till he felt a slim hand on his arm and Gwen appeared next to him. "Did you have nightmares again?" she asked as she reached over his face and turned it to her. His eyes darted over her face as panic began to set in. Instantly she moved, and dug under his arm and held him tightly, and she slowly shushed him. "Shh shh, it's okay. It's okay, Daryl" she chimed.

His eyelids lowered as he drew in a breath and smelled the lavender on her skin. Instinctively he moved to rest his head on hers. "It's okay" she repeated as she rose to look at him again. She flashed him a smile, then her head turned away from him as the door to the bedroom opened. There the little girl stood, in purple pyjamas, looking healthy and well. Excited she ran over to the bed, and Gwen stretched out her hand to help her climb it. "Morning little pumpkin!" she called, as the child called her mum and snuggled up to her. The girl flashed her brown glitters at him "Morning Daddy" she muttered, smiling innocently. Gwen nudged the girl "Daddy's having nightmares again, you know what that means right?" she said quickly, to which the girl nodded.

"Kisses and hugs!" She called, and immediately launched herself towards him. With tiny hands she managed to hug about half his torso, but it knocked the breath out of him. The girl had not only spoken but called him dad, called Gwen mom, Gwen had kissed him-

He wrapped his arm around the girl, his hand trembling as he moved, she was warm and soft. Gwen smiled at him, and shifted out of the bed, but not before leaning over and planting a kiss on his cheek slowly and steadily she rose and turned at him. She stretched in her light blue nightgown, the cuts on her arm reduced to tiny scars, and as she brought back her arms to her front, she held them to her stomach. "You think it's showing yet?" she asked, squinting her eyes to catch herself in the reflection. "w-what's showing" he stuttered to which she chuckled and pulled a face.

"C'mon pumkin, lets get Daddy some breakfast, I think he needs it" she said, reaching for the girl who giggled in agreement. She lifted her and balanced the girl on her hip as he headed for the door, her hair swaying in a messy braid.  
Nothing made sense, and everything was just plain wrong! Gwen wasn't that motherly, and she'd never... The girl couldn't speak! This place and this bed, it was all wrong, but he didn't care. He couldn't care. He could breathe and nothing hurt. There was colour and he could see it and there was love and he could feel it. It was enough to rip his chest in two. His hands found his face and his hair, it was longer now and clean. He drew in another breath, and just as he as about to smile a sharp screech sounded from downstairs. "Daddy!"

Like lightning, Daryl threw himself off the bed, finding his legs unstrained and light, and stormed down the stairs to find Gwen shielding the girl in the corner, a small knife clutched in her hand. "Daryl! One broke through!" She screamed, but as he turned, his hands raised to kill, he looked strait into familiar eyes.

" Little brother..." he muttered, slow and ghoulish, blood dripping with yellow hollow eyes. Then he laughed, in his usual jagged way and offered up his metal hand. "Playing house I see?" he mouthed, a sliver of flesh dropping from his jaw.

"Look man you gotta go" Daryl threw, holding up his hand for Merle to keep his distance. The little girl whimpered and Gwen threw some abuse their way, telling him to leave. Merle turned his head and pouted "No place for ol' Merle no more eh, you gots yourself a new family now, a better family" he started "You think you're the good guy now? She lure you in with her- sterling...personality and you think can have yourself a nice woman, some kids littering your yard? You think you belong here now? You can't even belong in a prison! Think you can protect the kid, that girl and that thing growing in her gut?! You gonna leave them to the biters, like you did your old pal, like you did your friends?" Daryl choked and froze at his brother's words. "You gonna leave them to turn? Hmmmmm?"

"New family after new family after new family...what did they ever do to deserve you?"

Daryl woke with a start and tears running from his eyes, it had been a while since he had seen his brother in his dreams. It had actually been a while since he had dreams at all. He drew in a breath, and eyed the candle lit room. The girl was still sleeping soundly, and Gwen had yet to move. He reached for his head but as they passed his eyes he could see them tremble. They were clam and cold, and he smelled of sweat.

Trembling and shaking he slipped out of the duvet. He hovered there for a second before swinging his crossbow over his shoulder. He fled into the darkened house, and out into the yard. 


	11. Chapter 11

Life after the dead  
Chapter 11

Gwen's eyes flashed open, and immediately she contorted in a most wonderful stretch, she moaned happily as her joints popped and her muscles tingled. She turned and rolled her head to find her companion had gone. She padded the mattress and found it to be luke-warm at best. He had been gone for a while. She squinted and searched the bed and the room for a note of some sort, or a sign, but found nothing conclusive. The little girl was still sleeping soundly, as she had done for most of the time she had been with them.

Gwen took to her feet, and made for the window, finding no trance of him in the courtyard either. She reached over to the child, brushing her hand through the girl's wild locks. "You close to being awake?" she asked rather harshly. When the girl didn't reply or stir in the slightest, she moved to take her pulse. She then nodded, slightly relieved that it was regular and normal and decided that she would leave the child here. She scribbled a note and left it beside her pillow, in case she would wake.

_Will be back. Don't panic. Blow the whistle if scared._

She scribbled, not knowing if the child was even old enough to read. "I'll be back" she promised to the sleeping kid, before slipping into her boots. She shoved a knife in the waistband of her shorts, and swung her bow and a quiver over her shoulder. Though she never really cared for quivers, and hardly ever used them, she had no time to change and get a belt to fit arrows. So, as quick as she could, she ran through the house and out into the yard, finding no sign of him there, she eyed every direction. Daryl was a hunter, there was no way he'd leave a trail if he didn't want to be found, and even if he did, he wouldn't know how to track him. That was one skill she'd never learned. The prison library didn't have books to cover it, or at least, she never thought to ask the guards for them.

Her fingers tingled, a slight hint of panic setting into her heart. There must have been a reason for him leaving in the middle of the night, it was barely morning now and his bed was already cold. She noticed he took his crossbow, so he might have gone hunting, or maybe check the traps. "Or he may have gone to find his people..." she sighed to herself, to which she answered herself "yeah, I know."

She took to the forest.

Daryl ripped a knife through a walker's head, and kicked another in the chest, knocking him backwards. He moved quickly and plunged his knife through the creature's socket, and plunged again to make sure. With every walker he killed, with every tear of their rotten flesh the voices of his people ghosted through his head. "Hey Daryl. morning Daryl. Mornin' Daryl! Mr. Dixon, I just wanted to thank you for bringing in that deer back yesterday.. I'd be honoured to shake your hand. Sorry Pookie." He knew them all, knew them by name, knew them by personality. He knew what they were like, and he knew how scared they would have been during the attack. Some would have cried, others would have fled, some would have tried in vain to protect their children. The children wouldn't stand a chance. The oldest may have fought, but they were no killers, the younger may have run but they'd get trapped, and lil' asskicker...

She didn't stand a chance.

He stabbed through another walker, moved his crossbow and shot another right between the eyes. "Can't make it alone now"Andrea rang to him, slurring her words as the infection coursed through her. He killed another walker, and threw it down into one of Gwen's spike pits. Another snarled behind him, but he was too late on the turn. The rotted creature took hold of his shoulder, and unlocked it's jaw to bite him. In that split second, before it's teeth touched his flesh, he fell backwards, forcing the walker to plummet into the pit. He too fell, but took of hold of the ropes at the side, keeping him from being pierced. The twine slit into his hand, and he let out a grunt and snarl and he lifted himself, clawing at the dirt, but his ribs stopped him.

Heavy with fatigue he screamed and he cursed for the world to end, drawing more walkers his way. He found the clear section with his foot, and stood besides the spikes as walkers surrounded him. He was tired, so tired of losing people, of caring all together. He didn't care, it needed to stop. "Come on then!" he screamed at the top of his lungs. Gwen was better off on her own, she had survived so far, all on her own. He was just going to get her killed, get the girl killed.

There was no way that they would find his people, and if they went to terminus they would most likely be killed. She knew exactly what lurked there, she'd seen it and still she thanked him when he asked her to go with him. She thanked him for promising to take her to a death trap!

Daryl reached, and pulled one of the walkers into the pit. "Cmon!" he screamed, enraging the beasts with his harsh voice, his ribs pulsing in pain. Two walkers fell into the pit of their own accord, squirming and snarling as they struggled, trying to reach him. Daryl took his first to the walker closest to him, breaking the brittle bone that was left of his skull, blood and rot coating his hand more with every hit. "Why. Won't. You. Die?!" he spat as he tore the face off the creature.

Another walker crashed into a spike, his arms reaching for Daryl, nails torn and bloody, it enraged him even further as he was almost tempted to walk into its reach and allowing it to turn him, at least then he wouldn't bother anyone. He couldn't hardly even see how many of them were up there now. It wouldn't be long. He wasn't giving up, he was giving in.

"Daryl!" Gwen shouted, sending her arrows whistling through the air. Two walkers were stuck down by arrows, and another, was sent flying into the pit. "Daryl!" she screamed his name again, as she started to work through the walkers, dropping them like bricks. His throat closed up as he saw her move outside the pit. She struggled with a walker, and threw it down into the pit, it was only then that she saw him. Relief washed over his features but it soon shifted, as another was upon her.

Daryl drew in a breath, and pressed down on the rope, flung his leg over the edge, clawing at the dirt. A walker near took his leg, but he managed to kick it away so he could rise. His crossbow still in the pit, he took to the walkers with his knife, and his fists. He ripped the walker that pressed down on Gwen. Her eyes were wide, a splash of blood on her left lid, mouth ajar that narrowed into a slit as she groaned, taking to her feet. She heaved, then flipped her head to beat a biter. She drew an arrow out of her quiver and ripped through it's face.

Soon, the all the dead were once again grounded, and there was nothing left to kill.

Heavy, sweaty silence fell between them, and they had not broken eye contact since the last rot had fallen. She was looking at him with such knowing eyes, and it made him boil. She shifted her weight from one foot to the other, and after a few minutes she finally spoke. "Will you come home?"

He threw up his hand "That house" he started "That aint ma home! My home was over run by walkers! You think just cuz you take me in that you own me now?!" He screamed, digging his heels into the dirt below him. "I didn't ASK to be saved!" he screamed, bellowing over Gwen as she simply stared at him. He didn't deserve to be happy, not after what happened. He didn't deserve to feel at ease, to feel relieved. His only use was offering protection for others, and time and time again he failed to live up to expectations.

"You wanted to..." Gwen muttered, understanding his rant. Daryl bit the inside of his lip "I'm not stupid" he hissed. "Joe, Tony...I grew up with guys just like em, harsh, degenerate assholes with a me against the world complex. Disgusting men, and I stayed with them! I knew exactly what they were, I knew exactly what would happen" he hissed, spit flying and his voice breaking, his body giving way to his emotions.

He wanted to take the beating, hoping that if he survived it might make him feel less bad. Beth had once said that he'd be the last man standing, but he couldn't bare that. The thought alone made him want to put a bullet in his head. Squeeze the trigger, have it over with in just one swift movement, one jerk of his finger would blow his head off and rid him of his memories. Beth was right. He was made for this climate, and for the first time in all his life, he was needed by others. He had a purpose, he could belong in a world that was poisonous to others. That which allowed him to excel, brought others to their knees.

Gwen was no longer surrounded by blue, and she was no longer smiling at him sweetly. She wasn't going to kiss him good morning, that girl wouldn't even look at him twice!

"So, you pound the dead till you feel better?" Gwen harshly called, wiping some blood off her cheekbone. Daryl scrunches his nose in anger and spat "You should have just left me alone!" Gwen nodded, and slapped the strap of her bow over her shoulder. "Can't do much without people" she then said, practically in sync with Andrea's few last words. "Then why do they keep dying!" Daryl growled, his voice completely broken now. Hitched and Pitched the words left his lips, and it seemed to change something in Gwen.

She took a deep breath and nodded again. She started slow "Dying is what people do, we all got to sometime. Parents, kids, brothers, sisters, the weak and the unprepared die and so do the strong and fortified. Especially now, people don't stand a chance. As more of us fall, their numbers increase, making every day harder and heavier." She drew another breath, her voice carrying her passion, hoping to reach him. "People like you and me, we buy them more time. Protect em for as long as we can. Give them time with their kids, time to make their peace with the world and with themselves. That's what we do, we give them time and give them a safe place to be."

She had sounded like Rick then, all hopeful and understanding. He too could turn the page and bring courage to others, just like she did to him. He wanted to snap at her. She had no idea of the losses he had suffered. She had never lost anyone, she didn't have anyone to lose! He just couldn't do it anymore, he couldn't bare to lose another. He didn't want to be the last one left.

"You're not going to end up alone" she promised, hitting the nail right on the head. Daryl froze and looked at her, venom in his eyes, his heart defrosting with each of her breaths. The tracker was stuck between striking her and crying his eyes out in her chest, and in the end, he chose neither. He didn't need to. She came to him, and gently as she could, she wrapped her arms around his chest, pressing the side of her face against his shoulder, so she wouldn't see him if he cried.

He almost had to laugh as it turned out she wasn't so oblivious about people after all.

His chest rose and fell quickly, and she only held him tighter until it slowed. She knew that he had broken down, and knew that there was little she could say now to glue his pieces back together. Time would heal him, or at least he would peace with himself. Though it wouldn't hurt if they found one of his friends. 


	12. Chapter 12

Life after the dead  
Chapter 12.

It was now the second day that they had sat outside the building they found the girl, and the parents had yet to show. They kept the streets as clear of walkers as they could, as each morning they drove up there, a few more had straggled in. Initially Daryl had asked the girl to look away, when they got out of the car to kill the creatures, but the girl never listened. Whenever he would look over his shoulder to check up on her, she would be glued to the window, watching them with a weird fascination. He doubted if she even understood what they were doing, she could hardly distinguish between human and walker, in all likelihood.

Gwen had told her to stay hidden, and had given her a blanket to cover herself in, to hide underneath but she never really did what they asked of her. He doubted if she even understood what they told her half the time.

It had been several hours, and they had already cleared the street. They now sat silently in the truck, peering out onto the road for any indication of movement. However they had yet to see something stir. Gwen and Daryl had barely spoken since his outburst two days ago. She had simply accepted his vile, and kept close to him all the same. He had lashed out at her in his feral state, and he was sorry for doing so. He had tried to apologise to her, or at least appease her in some way.

He had gone out the previous morning at the brink of day, and brought back a deer at midday. He had stalked it for the entire morning, earning him a serious sunburn on his arms, and a lighter one on his face. He had thought that she would be pleased to see it, especially as he had sprained himself, hauling it around, but as he showed it to her, she didn't even crack a smile.

She just looked up from the book she was reading to the kid and nodded as he lowered the beast onto the table. He didn't say anything, nor did she. She just looked him over, stood up and gently patted him on the head, as if he had been some dog that brought a dead pigeon home for his master. He didn't like admitting it, but it did feel kind of nice. He wanted to snap at her, or say something vile for the gesture but decided against it as she sat him down, and started treating his arms with a paste of mixture of mint and aloe vera. It was already set on the counter behind her, ready to go, as if she knew that he'd be home with a burn.

He thought back to their fight, and what she had told him as they dragged themselves back to the house. He had still been cross with her, angry with her for claiming to understand him while she had yet to experience anything he had been through. Even when their argument and their exchange of abuse had ended, he couldn't stop himself from making another stab at her. "Don't pretend like you know" he had started " you don't know nothin'. You never lost anyone in your life."

What she said then, cut into him more than the rope had. "I almost lost _you._"

After that they communicated solely by gestures and looks. He warned her when there was danger near, and which side was clear, how many walkers there were, and how tired he was. She nudged him when it was time to eat, and smiled at him when it was time for bed. They had spent their nights on the floor, like they had before. She would fall asleep strait away, and he would lay awake for hours, trying to block out the voices. He replayed their argument, and her words carefully and each time he got angry when he heard them. 'I almost lost you' meant nothing, he had been with her for two days- or something the like, that wasn't remotely the same! Yet, when he thought about how she said them, and the expression on her face, it gave him reason to pause.

She had experienced loss, he was sure of it. He could see it carved into her dull eyes as she spoke then, she just hadn't told him. She didn't trust him enough to tell him, and who would? Especially after falling out like that, screaming at her and blaming her. Thinking about it only made him feel more guilty, but he couldn't help it. It almost made him wish for something to go wrong, so that she would shout at him.

He would be the first to wake, instinctively jump started as the sun rose, and he would check the perimeter. He would go to check the traps in the surrounding woods, while Gwen cleared the traps near the house, and took care of the girl. Initially she had objected, and pressured Daryl to take the girl, or at least stay with her, as she hardly understood how she worked and what she needed. Gwen was a fish out of water when it came to children, or at least this specific child.

Daryl plucked at one of his arrows, his fingers tracing the nock, and running over the fletching. Then, a hand found his arm. As he turned Gwen's face was stern and immediately he turned back to the girl. "Stay here" he gruffed, as his hand already moved to unlock the door. Like one unit, he and Gwen moved, staying as low as possible, bows at the ready, as the moved towards what had shifted. On the far side a door had opened, which they had closed not a hour previous.

As they came upon it, Daryl shot Gwen a look, letting her know that she could pull it further ajar, and that he would take point. Firmly yanking the door, Gwen stepped aside and let Daryl pass, instantly raising her bow herself as he moved inside, but she quickly stopped as he paused in the doorway. He let the breath he had been holding escape as he pointed his bow to the ground. He fired an arrow in the weakened walker that lay stretched before him. It had tried to claw the door open, crawling and dragging over the ground as it's legs had been crushed.

He moved back, so that Gwen could have a look. She lowered herself, her leg stretching out behind her, cocking her head as she lifted the corpse's face to look at it better. She quickly shook her head and rose again, to which Daryl sighed. They had been checking every walker, to make sure none of them bore any resemblance to the girl, hoping to get some indication as to whether or not her relatives were even alive.

Daryl extracted the arrow from the skull, and looked over to Gwen, wanting to motion her back to the car, but as he did, and looked behind her, he instantly started running and screaming. Gwen instantly turned, her hair whipping across to a different shoulder and instantly drew an arrow. The girl had sprung from the car, and stood in the dead centre of the street, looking at them, and had drawn walkers in that were now only a few meters away. "Run to me!" Daryl screamed at the girl, to which she only panicked, and threw up her hands to cover her ears. She cowered down in the middle of the dirt as an arrow whistled its way into the walker nearest to her. Daryl shot another, which was almost upon her, causing it's blood to spatter all over her hair and back.

The few others that were around were quickly dispatched by him, as Gwen had thrown herself over the child while he went to work. The girl was shivering and whimpering, even after the last walker had crashed into the dirt. Daryl tapped Gwen's shoulder, to let her know the coast was clear, and it was only then that she unfolded herself from the girl. Her eyes were sharp and focussed as she took the girl in both hands, pressing her shoulders she looked eyes with the child. "Look at me" she ordered, which raised the girl's tear filled orbs. "You follow my orders. You follow Daryl's. You don't question them. You listen and you obey. That is how we protect you." She bit, calm but harshly as the child began to sob.

"Look at me" she again ordered, drawing the girl's eyes back. "You understand?"

The girl had never really listened to what they told her, nor did she give any indication that she understood what they said to her, but now, she was fixated on Gwen. She was genuinely upset about disobeying. Gwen spoke to the child like she was a person, instead of a toddler and maybe that was how they ought to treat her, especially now. Children didn't have the luxury of being just that anymore, the end of the world changed that. Not that he ever had that either.

Daryl gave Gwen a look, when she rose, and she nodded. They ought to head back. Daryl moved to the girl, and picked her up with one arm. She wrapped her little arms around him, her skin practically suctioning itself to his. Gwen opened the door for him, so he could slide inside, and closed it behind him as he sat down. She moved to her own seat, and without looking back, or lingering she drove back to the house.

Daryl had only heard Gwen speak when it was to the child, she had yet to say another word to him since their fight and it was starting to get to him. He himself had said nothing, afraid to anger her, or anger himself in the process, but he would do anything just to have her speak with him. Before he had found it annoying when she sought conversation, as it required him to talk back to her, even when he often didn't have the words to do so, but now he'd like nothing better than to be pressured by her. Even after the scare they had just experienced, the ride back to the mansion was one in silence.

As they got to the house, Gwen got out of the car, and took the girl from his lap. She looked the girl over, who was very eager to be picked up, and decided that zombie blood wasn't exactly becoming on her. "Hey there champ" she muttered as she lifted the child "lets get that grub off you okay. Let's take a bath" she told her, to which the girl seemed to respond. Gwen's eyes found his for a moment before she turned to the house.

He shifted and plucked the backpack from the back seat. They had found some herbs along side the rode, and Gwen had insisted on taking them, root and dirt and all. She had a few stems and plants in the courtyard, and planned on having an arsenal of medicinal and useful herbs, in case their medicine ran out. Daryl was familiar with a few of the plants, he knew which ones were poisonous and which would cause rashes. He knew the ones he could eat, but that was about the extend of his knowledge.

He took to the courtyard, and dug the tiny spade he found there into the dirt, watching Gwen from the corner of his eye as she boiled water on the fire. On her way upstairs, she first walked over to him, and gently touched him on the shoulder, letting him know that she was appreciative of him planting for her. She hauled the water upstairs, and minutes went by.

Daryl by now, was up to his elbows in dirt, even more than the general layer of grime that coated him. It wasn't until he had planted the third and final plant, that he heard Gwen, shouting his name. "Daryl!" she sounded panicked and harsh and he instantly dropped what he had been holding and with big paces he flung himself inside and up the stairs. "Gwen!" he shouted for her to which she answered a lot calmer this time. "In here!" she threw from the far end of the hall.

Daryl sped and threw open the door, only to swallow abruptly as he did. Instantly he froze as he laid eyes on both Gwen and the girl, and he cursed himself for not having listened more careful earlier. She had said "Let's take a bath" and he had assumed that she would be bathing the child, but as he entered and he saw the expanse of her skin he put two and two together.

Gwen was seated in one corner of the tub, with water to her waist, and the girl in front of her. She looked at him with pleading eyes, and it was only then that he noticed that the girl was struggling. Gwen was half covered in droplets and smears of soap and so was the child, but the little one's hair was still slick with product whereas Gwen's had already been rinsed.

Daryl cleared his throat, awkwardly shifting his weight around, trying his best not too look at her too intensely, in fact, he tried to not look at her at all. "She won't let me rinse out her hair! She starts bawling!" Gwen cried in obvious desperation, to which he was dumbstruck. She had called him, because she had trouble washing the girl? It almost made him laugh, her inexperience and general lack of know-how was amusing.

Common sense would have dictated that she had sorted it out herself, or at least that she would have covered herself, or something rather. Daryl sighed, as he saw that Gwen was indeed in distress, holding the little girl who was kicking her feet at the water. He walked to the tub, and watched the little girl reach for him, excited to see him again. Gwen held up some Tupperware, which she had filled water and tried to rinse the girl's hair with.

Daryl took it from her, carefully looking the other way as she shifted and he caught a glimpse of her chest. With his left hand, he tilted the girl's head backwards, and with his right he slowly and steadily poured some water onto her hair. Gwen eyed him over, and took her wet hand to his arm, fascinated by what he had done. The girl made little to no trouble and simply let him wash out her hair. "How?" Gwen mouthed, carefully taking in the scene and registering it.

"She just don't like the water gettin in her eyes s'all." he mumbled, increasingly more uncomfortable with the situation. Gwen nodded, now relieved with the situation she leant back against the head of the tub, and stretched. He tried not to, but his eyes betrayed him and found her. She seemed a lot softer now that she was clean, a lot more approachable and touchable. His eyes trailed down into the murky and soap stained water but lingered on her ribs, just below her breast were distinctive and old bite marks. Human, by the look of it. They changed to a thick white colour, angry against her skin.

The girl sputtered, and drew Gwen's attention, she rose and met his eyes. He instantly turned away, his chest heating with fear of her reaction. "Walker bite" she said, and traced it with her finger, to which Daryl whipped around his head. He took her arm and yanked it from the scar so he could look at it better "bit by a walker?!" he near shouted, to which she just nodded. "Yeah, must've been shallow or- something. Cause I never got the fever"

His fingers traced over the markings, amazed and fearful of what that meant. The bite had always been fetal, and people always turned afterwards. He hadn't even heard of anyone surviving it, yet there she was. It may have been shallow, but he doubted it as his finger dipped and rose with the lining of the teeth. Maybe the walker had been old, and lost its- whatever it was they carried, or many it was young, and just turned. He racked his brain, but couldn't think of an actual explanation that would account for her sitting in front of him.

She did not at all seem bothered that he had seen her in nothing but what she had been born with, but then again why would she. She wasn't exactly well versed in societies expectation and socially graceless, to her, nudity meant nothing.

The little girl shifted, slapping the water with her flat hand, seemingly done with her bath and eager to be taken out of it. He slid is hands into the water, and picked her up, wriggling gleefully she smiled up at him. He reached to the sink on the right, and wrapped her up in a towel. "Hey there little girl, is that better huh? Is that better?" he cooed to which she giggled.

Gwen's hands found her face, and she let out a huge sigh, before whipping back her head. Her hair came to her back with a wet slap, which made her smile a little. Daryl held the little girl close and took to drying her hair.

Within moments he was done, and the girl dressed herself, with great difficulty and a whole lot of help from Daryl. Gwen rose from the water, and squeezed the excess water out of her hair. Daryl had planned to be out of the bathroom before did, but he had waited to long. Now he saw the expanse of her skin in its entirety and he couldn't help but stand in awe of the road that had been carved into her skin. Much like her arms, and the hints of back that he had seen before, her chest, stomach, hips, and legs were a testament to battles she had won, the hurt she had survived. She stepped out of the tub, dripping carelessly onto the floor and forming a puddle at her feet, before taking a towel to her body.

"Water is yours if you want" she said, rubbing her hair between the towel and her two hands. Daryl had just looked at her in silence, his throat closed and his voice faltering. He cleared his throat awkwardly and just nodded. The girl, seemingly bored of the conversation and hoisted herself onto the toilet seat and had started playing with the paper she found there.

Gwen stepped aside, and changed positions with Daryl, so that he might change and bathe, but as she moved him, his heart began to sink and his hands began to sweat. He stood still and waited as she ran the towel over her back and eyed the wall. He knew that she was not at all bothered by his presence, but looking at her became increasingly more difficult, especially as he had started to look past the scars.

She finished drying herself in less than a minute and swiftly dressed in the clothes she had taken with her. She lingered for a second, clearly seeing his hesitation spelled out on his face, so she took the child by the hand and turned for the door. As she opened it, she slowly turned back "They're just scars, Daryl."

He then realised that she must have seen them, when she tended to his wounds, when she bound his ribs. He tore off his shirt and threw his winged leather to the ground, angry. He felt exposed, like a nerve and she had stepped on it. Again.


	13. Chapter 13

Life after the dead  
Chapter 13

In the water he thought of his brother, and how he had turned. If only his bite had been the same as Gwen's, he may be alive just yet. He had always thought his brother to be invincible, that nobody could kill Merle, but Merle. But then again, he had. He chose to die when he went out there by himself, without any back-up and nothing but his good intentions. Merle had intended good, he was sure of it.

He missed his brother now, more than ever. Merle had the awful tendency to give him all kinds of unsolicited advice, most of which he usually disregarded. But now, he would take all the advice he could get because he was way out of his depths. Every time Gwen crossed his mind now, he remembered her laying in that bath, soap swirling round her, her head back and sighing in relief. It made his lower gut twist and pull at him so much that it nearly made him sick. Even now, his skin was still tingling as he sat where she had, the water slowly losing it's warmth.

He ran the bar of lavender soap over his skin, it almost hurt as he scrubbed away the dirt that had coated his skin for at least a few weeks. As he did he revealed cuts he didn't even know he had, there was a gall on the back of his arm, scratches made from trees and nails, they stung him as he washed. However nothing hurt more than when he reached over his shoulder, and felt the lines of his scars. Even now he could remember each of them vividly, every punishment, every drunken tantrum and it chilled him to the bone.

He threw his hand from beneath the water, up to his mouth as he had started to wince. Each time he thought of it, or remembered it he had to keep himself quiet, keep himself in check. Now too, his body had already reacted and had started to shake, as if it was already expected to be put outside, and be forced to stand in the cold in nothing but his trunks. Daryl drew in a breath, and as it hitched he decided to stay in the now luke warm water until he stopped shaking, and his voice solidified.

After a few minutes he heard a knock on the door. He had gruffed an answer, but she had already passed by. After he had gotten out of the bath, long after his skin bore similarities to a raison, he dried himself, and found that Gwen had left clothes for him outside the door. She had become overly domesticated in his opinion, bringing him clothes, making porridge, what was next? Bringing him his slippers and a cigar after he came downstairs?

Luckily his vision of domestication shattered when he found her in the courtyard, binding wood together in big bundles. She had already bound half a dozen bundles, and had cut some logs to kindling, the hatchet still lodged in a treetrunk, which she kept in small deerskin satchels. She tied the last knot to the bundle she was holding, the girl beside her, eagerly watching her fingers work. Daryl stood in the doorway, watching her fingers pull at the string, her expression clearly bored with her work.

"Thanks" he gruffed, causing her to whip up her head. "For the clothes" he said, pulling at the moss coloured shirt. She nodded, and motioned for him to sit down, which he did. She pointed out the firewood, and held up the string. "You can help if you want" she rang, as she pulled some string underneath a bundle of wood. He too starting tying some together, glad the silence was over with.

After a little bit, he caught her looking at him, and as soon as he saw her face again a laugh escaped him. She looked at him angrily, pouting "what?" she bit, to which she shook his head and shrugged. "You rip through walkers like its nothin but panic when a kid cries" he said, cracking another chuckle half way through his sentence. She then met his eyes, and as she did, her face split open into a smile. She threw out a hearty and quite unattractive laugh which distilled into a giggle. The sound of it made Daryl feel a little lighter. "I can handle the dead" she then said softly "It's the living I have trouble with."

That was something he surely understood. He too had never really gotten the hang of being around people. He never knew what to say, or what to do to make someone happy or what someone needed when they were sad. He had always felt so useless in those situations, stumbling through life when others slipped through it so easily. He didn't know how to console Carol when she lost Sophia, nor did he know what to say to Rick when his wife died. So many of his friends, and their friends had died in the most horrible ways and he never knew what to tell them, what to say to them to make them feel okay, or at least less bad.

Usually, he would just hang around them, make sure that they weren't alone, or send others that knew them better their way, so that they might do the consoling. Heck when Zach died, Beth was the one that consoled him, while he was her god damned boyfriend. People had always been strange beings to him. He had always thought them cruel, harsh and weak, and it wasn't until he had met his people, and joined the group that he changed his opinion.

"Yeah" Daryl answered her, as he realised he had been silent too long, and her laughter had died down. She looked him over once, in a way that made his chest curl and shrivel. He quickly rose from his seat, and told her that he was going to check the snares, even though he had done that already. She just nodded, in her usual way, but before he could turn, she took his arm. "You'll be careful" she stated, as opposed to asking him. "I'll do my best" he gruffed mockingly, taking up his crossbow.

As he knelt beside a trap, freeing a cottontail from the snare, he cleaned his knife on the pants that Gwen had given him. They were cargo pants, quite similar to her own. Military issue, if he wasn't mistaken. They were nice, light and easy to move in, yet sturdy enough that he didn't feel every blotch of mud that splattered against it. The next snare he checked was empty, but something else caught his eye. There were tracks near it, human ones at that, or at least a very steady and unlimping walker. They had dallied around the snare, knelt down besides it, and then walked off in the opposite direction, to the house. The boots were too big to be Gwen's and he hadn't seen anyone else around. Nonetheless, whoever it had been, had headed towards the house, no more than six hours ago. Daryl swung his crossbow over his shoulder and moved back to the mansion, as fast as the shrubbery and trees would allow.

Instantly he thought of the hunters, the one both he and Gwen had crossed, if they had spotted them, and followed them home. Did he just refer to the mansion as home?

He ran faster, dodging trees and the southern pit, and crashed through the gates, shouting for Gwen, who quickly erupted from the house, carrying the child on her hip, her other hand clutching a knife. "What is it?!" she screamed back at him, to which he had no real answer. As he came upon her, he stood in front of her, panting and heaving breaths as if they were made from solid rock. "There were prints near the snares, someone's found us" he breathed, to which Gwen's eyes widened."Friend or foe?" she breathed, clutching her knife tighter. "They was prints, not memoirs!" he snarled, to which she rolled her head.

She eyed her gates for a moment, before nodding silently. "We lock down the mansion tonight. Not taking any risks" 


	14. Chapter 14

Life after the dead  
Chapter 14

Gwen stood upon a wooden and lightly rotten ladder, knocking a few extra nails in the boards she had put up. Daryl had told her that it was fine, but she refused to listen and got up there anyway. He in turn had dragged two cots down the stairs, as per her request. She insisted that they sleep downstairs tonight, as it was easily fortified. Daryl had raised his brow at that, if they had chosen to sleep upstairs they would have more time to react if someone tried to break into the house, but she wouldn't listen. She had locked all the doors, and dead-bolted them with with the make-shift locks she had put on them.

The girl had parked herself on one of the cots, and watched Gwen work intensely, her fingers mimicking whatever movement the woman was making. Daryl had noticed it before, that the little girl mimicked movements, or that she would copy their lip movements as one of them was talking to the other, however she refrained from doing it when they addressed her. He had initially thought that the kid was just stupid, or a mute, but her behaviour suggested otherwise. She was trying to understand them. "You aight kid?" he called, dropping three rolled up blankets next to her. Startled, she shifted, and threw up her arms to shield her face, however when she identified him she paused, and looked at him with big and sparkling eyes, as if she were looking at gold.

"You aight?" he repeated, trying to lure a response out of her, then to his surprise, she nodded at him. Before she had only barely shown any indication that she understood what he said. He cracked a smile, and turned to Gwen, who hit another nail in the window board, to tell her. He however paused, just as the first word escaped his lips. He had turned to her, as if she were the mother of the child, and he the father, and that she had done something as for the first time and he was asking her to get a camera to capture the moment, like some idyllic Hollywood family. He bit the inside of his mouth, not hearing Gwen call out to him.

His eyes found her a moment, and saw her lips moving. It was only then that he tuned back in. She squinted at him and repeated herself "are you okay?" Daryl shrugged, and nodded, to which she rolled her eyes and went back to her hammering.

Soon the reinforcements were done, and dark had begun to fall. They had chosen the sitting room connected to the kitchen to set up their nest for the night. Daryl had dragged a big mahogany desk to their beds, so that they would have some cover, and he wanted to get more furniture for that very purpose, but Gwen had just looked him over and shook her head. She nodded for him to follow her and revealed that in one of the back rooms she had already made a contraption to provide cover. It was made out of thick wood and metal plates with several holes, which were perfect for guns and slits to fire arrows out of on various heights. "I had two weeks before I found you" she simply said, noting that he was clearly impressed with her. They moved it in between the kitchen and their nest. "Kitchen is the first place they check" Daryl noted, to which Gwen nodded.

"We'll be safe, if a Deluge hits" she mumbled, to which he raised a brow. "Deluge?" he questioned, wondering it was something Spanish. She turned to him, squinting.

"The tide of sin"

Daryl mumbled something to himself. It sounded like something Hershel might say. Old man was always clutching that bible of his. His stomach churned a little, remembering his expression the moment before the blade hit and the deafening cries that followed. Hershel had been at peace, seeing the change in Rick as he made his final decision as leader. He had become a kind and forgiving man. Daryl wondered if he died like one.

The night crept on, slow and thick as if it were made of tar. The girl had burrowed herself into the cot, rolled up in a blanket as if she were a worm. Daryl sat next to her, furiously wiping dried blood of his crossbow. Gwen had been glued to her screen, her bow beside her, a rifle in her hands, already pointing out at the door. It had annoyed him that she wouldn't just sit down. It had been several hours since they had set up, and she had yet to stir from that blasted wall.

He finished cleaning his crossbow for a third time, and put it down next to him. He wanted to ignore her, but her actions were so forced and unnatural, he couldn't let it go. He bit his lips and spoke up as he rose. "I'll take watch, get some rest" he called trying to strike up some conversation and move her, to which Gwen whipped around in anger, and pushed him back down. "Don't get up, you'll cast a shadow" she hissed, her eyes angrily narrow.

Daryl in turn pulled a face at that. "Let's just blow out the candles-" he started, to which Gwen her eyes spread wide in panic, her hand moving to stop him. "No please" she threw, as Daryl blew out the candles. The room darkened, and silence followed. Daryl's eyes adjusted momentarily, as he was used to seeing in the dark, having spent many a night in the woods by his lonesome. The little girl ignored the events and simply rolled herself tighter into her ball of softness. It was only after the first minute passed, that Gwen had started to breathe heavily, as if her lungs were fighting against her. Daryl turned, and found the girl wide eyed and frozen beside him.

"Hey are you-" he started, to which she turned and flung himself into him at such a velocity she near broke his chest bone. She pressed herself into him, her arms folded in front of her chest like a child would when frightened. He in turn looked at her queasily, completely misunderstanding her intentions. "Get offa me girl!" he threw as he pushed against her, wanting to fling her to the side, and fling her he did. Her head knocked against the wall behind him with an almost sickening thud.

He drew in a breath, and as she remained quiet, he clumsily moved to light a candle, and see what he had done. In the split second that he struggled with the match a whole arrange of horrifying thoughts crossed his mind. Images of the girl dead beside him lingered as the match sparked and he saw her, leant against the wall, her eyes wide open in fear with a tear trickling down her face. His own eyes darted over the room, his body shifting towards her, not quite knowing what to do. She hadn't moved or made a sound, she almost seemed to be in a state of shock.

Then her lids lowered, and her pupils dilated back to their original size as they took in the light. Her head rolled towards Daryl and she squinted at him before rising. He cursed under his breath, his hand twitching and wondering what to do with himself. He had just flung her against a wall for gods sake, but there had been no- it was too sudden!

"Don't blow out the candles" she just said, her voice kind of hoarse now as she pushed herself from the wall, her hand reaching for the back of her head. When it came back clean, she moved to light another candle, her hand still slightly unsteady, it was then that he understood.

_She was afraid of the dark. _

She had moved to him for protection of some sort, or maybe she just need conformation that she wasn't alone. Maybe it had triggered some memory or maybe she had always been this way, in either case it explained the candles littered around the house, and the flash lights kept on every table. He had noticed it before, and already made that deduction, but to see how fierce her reaction was, made him feel more ignorant and stupid than he ever had.

Gwen stared at her own hand, commanded it to stop shaking with a squint of her eyes, and picked up her weapon. He wanted to say something to her, or do something but he couldn't for the life of him figure out how to act, so he just looked at her. Gwen's eyes lowered for a second, darting over her boots as if she was finding her words, then looked at him quickly, and squeezed out a "sorry" ringing more like a question than a statement, as if she wasn't quite sure if that was the right thing to say. Her eyes darted back to the slit in the fencing, and she once again focussed on her weapon, leaving Daryl even more confused. Why was she apologising?

He was used to being the one that fucked up a situation. He was always the one to say the wrong thing, or do the wrong thing but never in his life had he experienced a person who didn't have a clue either. She didn't know how to act around people maybe even less than he did. He was the one showing her what was acceptable and what wasn't, and he was being a very poor example!

He bit the inside of his cheek nervous and threw a glance her way. "No" he muttered "my bad."

She then lowered her head, and chuckled softly, breaking the tension that had gathered between them. "You suck, Daryl" she threw as she finished her laugh, not taking her eyes off the opening. "Well you aint no prize either" he threw back lightly and watched her face split into a smile. "Screw you, I'm great" she breathed, her hand reaching for the back of her head and rubbing it gently.

Daryl wanted to say something along the lines of 'yeah you are' but all he could manage was a grunt. He was glad for her response. He was so terribly afraid of messing things up for her, for himself, for what he had here. His hand found the little caterpillar rolled up beside him and absently patted her over the blanket she had covered herself in. The child was already fast asleep, as she had been for most of the time she was there.

"She's one tough kid" Daryl threw to which Gwen let out a sound of acknowledgement."I wonder why she won't talk" she added. There were plenty of reasons why someone would go mute, especially a child. Maybe she had never learned how to talk, or maybe she had some condition that kept her from doing so. There was also the possibility of trauma, these days people faced all kinds of awful, death and hurt that would knock the voice out of anyone. Sometimes he wondered why not more people were traumatised. People that had clean-cut lives with picket fences and two cars, how could they possibly bare the horror of every day life after the end?

"So that bite" Daryl started, already taking his thumb to his mouth in anticipation of her reaction, wondering if it was okay for him to ask. "Walker" she just said plain as day.

"How'd happen?"

Gwen paused for a moment, and eyed her weapon intensely before she started, slowly and carefully phrasing each word "I was isolation, so, when the world went to shit, and we were held down for a few weeks, maybe a few months, I don't know..." she paused for a second "When people started to leave, no one thought to free the section I was in. It was fast and messy and lots of prisoners got left behind. The walkers came through a day later, but they couldn't get to us, as we were still locked inside. I still had water from the faucet so I was okay for a little while."

"A week after the guards left, a group entered the prison and took over. Awful people, the kind that shouldn't have survived. They didn't free me, but they fed me, as long as I entertained them. Give em something to bet on." She showed no expression as she told her story, while Daryl's blood had already begun to boil. "They turned the main area in some sort of Colosseum, and they'd watch from the balcony. We fought for our dinner, you'd get more if you took on restrictions. One hand bound, two hands bound, unarmed. They'd throw in walkers, and if you survived you got to eat. Many of the inmates didn't make it, I fought a few of them in my matches, after they turned."

"I got bit in my last match, seven walkers. Right arm bound. Unarmed" she stated in a practised manner, as if she had repeated it to herself often. "It was a too big a risk, but I thought I could take it. After I got bit, they stopped my match and dumped me in the green cell block, where they kept the ghouls. I was no longer of use so they just used me as feed for the ones that had already turned." she explained, seemingly quite okay with what had been done to her. She stopped her story, and shifted, as if her story was done.

When she didn't continue, Daryl pressed her "How did you get out?" he asked, to which she threw up her hand as a noise carried from the front door. Daryl's hand instantly found the girl, the other his bow. Gwen shifted her weight and took aim as the scratching was rang again and then a bark. Daryl froze, and instantly reached for Gwen as she relaxed. "Just a dog" she whispered to which he promptly shook his head. "Stay put." he ordered. She stared at him blankly and simply nodded, noting the harshness in his eyes.

He was not about to fall for the same trick twice, it had already cost him Beth, he was not about to lose Gwen and the girl too. "There'll be walkers" he muttered, to which she nodded. "They wont be able to get in, they'll wander back out eventually" she replied. Daryl shook his head. "Stay here" he ordered, as he himself shifted. He needed to get a look at these people. He moved, as quietly as he could through the other rooms, circling back to the staircase. He took to the stash room, as it had the best unobstructed view of the yard. Silently he moved the torn drapes aside and peered through the boards. There wasn't anyone to be seen. There were two walkers roaming around, one which was well on his way to getting penetrated by a big wooden spike, the other just stood there, still and unmoving. There was no pack, like there had been in the funeral home. Had a dog just really wandered into their yard? What were the odds of that?

He squinted, focussing his view but he couldn't catch anything out of order. The loose walker rammed itself into one of Gwen's traps, and let our a snarl but instead of clawing and struggling like they usually did, he just flopped over onto the wooden installation, as if it was just giving up. It stretched itself out onto the spike, its arms hanging limply beside its body. He looked hardly wounded, not malnourished at all "must be recently turned" Daryl told to himself. Maybe that walker was the one that left the prints. 


	15. Chapter 15

Life after the dead  
Chapter 15

The night had been restless but without incident. As daylight rolled through the boarded windows, Daryl moved outside and dispatched of the walkers that had got themselves caught in the traps, and spikes, including the one he had seen from the stash room. Gwen had cleaned up their nest and had checked the snares, the girl switching between the two of them, afraid to be left by herself. Gwen said nothing about his error in judgement, thinking it would always be better to be safe than sorry.

Gwen had spoken to him normally, now and again. Asked him how his night had been, since he never ventured back downstairs, if he'd seen anything. He had just rolled his shoulders, which she seemed to understand. She told him that he looked better, which took him quite by surprise and twisted his gut in that way that he hated. She then pointed out she had meant the bruising on his face and he felt stupid for being embarrassed, but of course, didn't mention that to Gwen.

As they prepared for their run into town, Gwen had started talking to him about how she wanted to find some more herbs, as her garden was still pretty barren. Daryl had scoffed at that, but said nothing. She wanted something nice, and he wasn't about to give her shit for it, he knew how that went down. All Beth had wanted was a drink, and he had given her a ton of shit for it, and she had cried. He didn't want Gwen to cry, least of all because of him.

So, when on their way to the meeting point, he pulled over the car and scooped some squirrel tail out of the dirt, and gently put it in the box they kept in the back seat for that very purpose. He grunted and kept his usual displeased disposition through out the action, but as he caught her eyes as he sat back beside her, and as he saw her smiling, his cheeks coloured. "Thanks Daryl" she mused, briefly touching his shoulder, before settling back in her comfortable position.

He cleared his throat, as he pulled away from the side of the road, and began driving again "it's uhh squirrel tail, helps the blood to clot. Might come in handy if we get hurt" he reasoned and informed her, to which she turned and reached over the back of her seat to look at the plant. "Really?" she mouthed, fingering the leaves. "You uh crush the leaves and apply em to the wounds, or distil em in water for internal bleeding..." he muttered.

"We're better prepared then! If you see some more, holler" she threw as she moved to caress the girl in the back-seat, who cooed at her touch. She had learned that gentle touches to the girls hair brought a smile to her tiny face, and Gwen had practically been doing it non-stop ever since. "She likes it when you do that" Daryl observed, stating the obvious. He didn't want the conversation to die out just yet. Gwen turned to him and nodded gleefully. She then reached back and quickly tousled his hair, making him flinch "You do too" she said, flashing another smile. He pulled his head out from under his hand and groaned "I'm no dog" he bit, even though she was completely right.

He liked it when she touched him, when she poked his side to direct his attention towards something, or when she took his arm to steady herself, when she patted his head playfully, when her hand found him during the night. He would even find himself cranky and even more on edge than usual if she hadn't touched him in some way in a while. He had started to crave it and he hated it.

Her eyes burned into his, sharp and green, like little gems. He quickly turned his head, and pulled at his scraggly beard, trying to ignore her and simply forget that she was here. His gut was twisting as she stretched and moaned, pulling at his eyes to look at her. She shifted, and stretched her legs, putting her muddy and blood stained boots up on the dash, and stared out the window. She cracked down the window slightly, so she could feel a little breeze, but all it did, was sent her lavender soaped smell his way, the wind made her hair whip, and she mused in the sunlight. It closed up his throat.

"We're almost there" he muttered, to which her eyes flashed open and she straitened herself. She whipped back and took the hand of the little girl. "Stay low" she ordered to which the girl nodded.

But as they pulled up to the building, there was a woman sitting on the Honda outside. Black, and frizzy haired like the girl was and absolutely beautiful, she instantly rose and raised her shotgun in their direction. The pair's eyes met, and each signalled the other what to do. Gwen, threw open the door, her bow clutched in her left hand, a handful of arrows in the other. She held them up, surrendering, but the woman didn't let up. "Have yu got Kyra?!" she shouted in a heavy accent. African or Dutch, Gwen reckoned.

"I don't know" Gwen said "We found a girl, but she doesn't talk!" She shifted her weight "Look we don't mean you any harm, else we wouldn't have left that message. Are you her mom?" The woman paused for a second and shook her head "Her sista" she called. The woman must have been at least thirty. Gwen raised her brow, but quickly shrugged. "Cmon, lower your gun, I need to look at your face, see if you're related" she called, even though she had little to no clue what indications might point to a relation, she just wanted to see if the stranger was willing.

The woman hesitated for a moment, but quickly got down from the car, almost slapping her shotgun onto the hood. Gwen jotted towards her and reached for her face. The woman flinched, clearly not trusting her, but allowed it. Without a care she turned her head as if she was trying to unscrew it, she squinted at the woman, narrowing her eyes to slits and making sounds. She then looked back at Daryl and signalled him.

He rolled his head and quickly got out of the truck, taking the girl with him. She instantly reacted, seeing the woman and started to charge forward, but Daryl stopped her. He held her behind him, as he slowly walked towards the sight. "Just you out here?" the woman quickly nodded, her hand against her mouth, tears running down her face at the sight of the girl. "I kant believ she's okey" she muttered. "Please" she begged, gesturing at the child, who too was squirming to get to her.

"Daryl" Gwen called, squinting at him, but he ignored it. "Who got bit? We saw the blood" he asked to which the woman shook her head. "My mom, she turn earlia dis week" her voice pitched halfway through the sentence. "We got stuck in dis factory buildin for so long, I thought forshure that Kyra'd be ded" the woman spoke. Daryl nodded with a grunt and released the girl.

Awkwardly but quickly she made her way over to the woman, and immediately fell into her arms. The woman sobbed loudly and ugly, pressing the little one deep into her chest, while the girl just laughed a little. He had to admit it felt good to see them reunited, to see a little happiness, but at the same time it stung. There was little to no chance that he might have a reunion like it with the people he cared about. Gwen turned around to look at him, swaying in a schoolgirl-giddy way, grinning.

After a few minutes of hugging, crying and thank you's had passed, the group dared to speak again. The woman shot her slanted dark eyes up to Gwen and stood up, cradling the child as if she were just a baby. "You got a camp?" Gwen asked, to which she shook her head. "No, I come back here to- to bury her, but when I saw de note, I camped out and waited. I had a car, but it broke down about a mile or so up dat way" she said, pointing north.

"You can come with us." Daryl said, knowing Gwen was about to make the same offering. Gwen then nodded, smiling "We fortified a mansion, its safer than the roads." The woman looked them over "Dat where yu took Kyra, yes?" Gwen nodded. "I wud like to come wid you, you protected her when I coud not. I am in your debt, and I would like to repay" she said quietly, thick with her accent. Gwen nodded understanding, and motioned for them to follow, but the girl had already taken that role. With her stumpy legs, she pulled her much older sister towards the pick-up, and opened the door, but as she passed both Daryl and Gwen she stood still and pointed at them, as if she was introducing them. She didn't say a word however.

Once they were all back in the truck, Daryl at the wheel, with Gwen beside him, the woman in the back with Kyra clutching her chest. "I'm Gwen" Gwen started, and then pointed at Daryl and introduced him. The woman nodded, and pulled the child closer to her "Nomusa, is my name" she said, rubbing circles over the little girl's shoulder, looking at her as if she had just seen god. Gwen nodded. "We'll set up a room for you and Kyra to share. She's been sleeping in ours" she said, drawing Daryl's gaze. She had said ours like they were married, or at least together. They had shared a bedroom that much was true, but the way she said it, struck him and made his gut twist.

"Is it just de two of you?" Nomusa said then. "Yeah" Daryl answered bitterly. The woman's prayers had just been answered and she still wasn't pleased?! He would have given anything to be reunited with his brother, for Carol to have Sophia, for Judith to have a mum. Why wasn't this bitch happy? The woman drew Kyra even closer, practically squeezing her to death as if she could sense Daryl's hostility. Then, as Daryl grunted, Gwen spoke up "We will see to your comfort, show you how everything is set up. You'll be able to keep yourselves safe."

"You leaving?" She chirped, rather loudly. Gwen nodded "We'll make trips of a few days each time, Daryl still has people out there, we aim to find them. We couldn't leave the child alone before." Nomusa then nodded "I undastand. I will keep your home safe, for when yu return" She decided, making Gwen smile ridiculously crooked. He snorted. Knowing Gwen had taken to the woman made him feel a little more at ease.

Daryl had never once thought that they would actually find any relation to the girl. When he told Gwen that they would wait till they had before heading out, he was just making their time together a little more bearable. He thought that it would be the three of them, and that one day he'd have to make a choice, or maybe if he wanted long enough that the decision would be made for him. With each day his people would be further from him, and one day they would be out of reach. He swallowed hard, now they were going to head out and he would find out who of them had died, and he had to tell them that he had lost Beth.

What if he couldn't protect Gwen, out there on the road, what if she died, what if she got bit and turned, what if someone took her. Daryl tensed up at the possibilities, at the unknown and eyed the girl next to him. He didn't want to lose her. They had done well together. She was as much built for this life as he was and if he had to bet, it would be on her to be the last survivor of the turning. But it had been his mistake that had gotten Beth taken, it would be his mistake that got Gwen killed. He was sure of it.

He eyed the African woman through the rear-view mirror, glaring at her, almost angry. She had made the choice for him, she was the trigger that would send them out into the road. But as he saw Kyra dig into her sister's bloody and beige sweater he couldn't hate her, even though he tried to. His time of tranquillity had run out and it was time to face the cannons again. 


	16. Chapter 16

Life after the dead  
Chapter 16

"If you find more people, bring them here if you think they can be trusted. There are plenty of bedrooms, and there's plenty of food. If need be, you can hold out here for three months with a dozen people." Gwen informed their new addition, whom nodded. "It is indeed impressive what you have Guwen. Dis house is sturdy and protected, you have done well" she complimented looking back at the house behind her. "I will protect it."

"What, like you protected the girl?" Daryl bit, rolling her eyes at her. Gwen promptly stomped him against his shoulder. "Don't mind him, you seem capable and you made the best choice leaving her in that cabinet" She reassured Nomusa, who nodded and drew her sister to her. "Tank you, again"

Gwen took point, and directed Daryl. "The nearest map is this way, we should make it in half a day's journey. We'll leave a message and check the nearby houses for signs, then move to the next, back to the house and then the opposite direction. Cover the most ground" she rang, but Daryl didn't really hear all of it. She had turned into a ringing instead, and he just followed her, one step behind, his knife drawn, his crossbow on his back. Like a pack-mule or a dog, he traced behind her, dogging her steps mute and blind.

It was minutes or hours after they had left that they came to a halt. His feet had started to sting, but he ignored it. Gwen came into focus, she was digging in her rucksack. She handed him a water bottle, and told him to keep hydrated. Reluctantly he took a sip of water, but almost spat it when he tasted sometimes besides the stale water he was used to. Gwen eyed him with a raised brow. "It's apple and cinnamon..." she assured him, a sly smile on her lips.

"Well aren't you Mrs. Housewife" Daryl bit, which earned him a stomp against his shoulder. He rolled his shoulders, her 'punches' didn't really hurt, but sometimes she hit him right on a nerve and it would sting for hours, this time it was the latter option. He wasn't about to let her know that she actually hurt him, and so he continued to mock her. "Call that a punch?"

She quickly moved, sliding her right foot behind him, and rammed her full weight against his chest, toppling him over with a grin on her face. Daryl grunted and reached for her, but hit the ground before he could latch onto her. Instead, as his back hit the solid dirt, he grabbed hold of her ankle, and pulled it from under her. She skipped on her other leg for a second, trying to balance herself which she soon lost as he shoved her. She came to the ground with an awful thud, but as Daryl started to rise and pick himself together, she kicked him against the shoulder and knocked him down again.

He grunted in anger, and turned to her to hit her, or push her or something, but as he did he found her smiling and chuckling. With the stretch of her leg she kicked up some dirt and rolled over, looking at him, her laughter intensifying. "You suck so bad in a fight, Daryl" she chuckled incredibly pleased with herself. She swallowed a breath, his lips spreading into a feign smile.

"Yea?" He taunted and lifted himself and they got into a scuffle. He caught one of her arms, and managed to pin a leg, damp leaves rustling below him and the smell of dirt in the air. She struggled, incapacitated by her own laughter, her muscles strained but weak against him. "Lots a bark and no bite" he taunted, to which she squinted, and pressed against him. She was strong, her arms toned and skilled. He had downed on her with his entire weight, and she had started to lift it, her brow knotted and wrinkled in the effort. "My god!" she breathed under the strain "Must've been a whole lot of squirrel!"

She groaned under his weight and threw back her head in a fit of laughter. Her laughter had always sounded like a cheetah's last breath, but in that moment, it rang like the chiming of bells. Her exposed neck and smile triggered the memory he held of her, when he had caught her unveiled. Her body in soap, her hair wet and she was gentle. He drew in a breath, his skin tingling as he remembered, but he quickly dispelled it, his smile lowered to a scowl as her head whipped back.

He flashed his teeth and pressed down a little more, making her exhale abruptly in a pitch. She coughed, and flailed before her free hand found his chest. "Okay! Okay! Point made!" she bit, and just as he let up, shifting a leg underneath himself to rise, her free hand gripped his shirt, drawing in a breath. His eyes flashed open as they found hers and for a moment his body went into overdrive. That all to familiar twist in his gut found him again, sending shivers through his veins. Panic set in but when he looked into her eyes, he something different than he expected. She had seen something.  
She pulled him down, and lifted herself quickly, her eyes flashing in a determination he had seen before. He shifted, allowing her from underneath him, and they both rose quickly to their feet. He wanted to ask what she had seen but she raised her hand. He had to be quiet.

He picked up his crossbow, which he had thrown off during their scuffle, and aligned it to his horizon. He shook his head, trying to rid himself of the earlier encounter, forcing himself to focus. Gwen shifted awkwardly, and unsure of herself for a moment, before drawing in a breath. "Take to the trees" she ordered, pointing a thumb over her shoulder. A great oak stood behind them, perfect for climbing. Daryl shot her a look, which she answered with only a stare. He didn't know what was going on, or what she was thinking. All he did know was that she wanted him in that tree, and she wasn't keen on waiting.

Reluctantly, with a grunt and hiss he hoisted himself up there, his ribs groaning as he did. He propped himself up on a steady branch, hiding himself as best he could among the leaves, his crossbow primed in Gwen's direction, ready for whatever was about to unfold. He watched her as she ran her hand over her hair, flattening the stray ones before holding them out in front of her mouth. "Heeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeyyyy-" she shouted, her voice echoing loudly through the forest.

Daryl clenched his jaw, immediately pissed at her for making so much noise. That stupid girl was about to draw every walker in their direction if she weren't careful! Gwen waited, eyeing the distance for whatever she had just called, but as it remained out of her reach, she yelled again. She drew her knife, rolling her head, before slowly taking steps forward, one at a time. She moved. She was still well within Daryl's reach, even as she stalked away from him.

He bit the inside of his cheek, trying to keep himself from shouting after her. His body had heated in spite, getting increasingly annoyed by her mannerism. The least she could do is give him some kind of indication of that danger they were in, a phrase, a hand movement, anything!

It was only when she disappeared out of sight, that he really started to panic. She had ordered him into that tree for a reason, but she wasn't exactly the most tactical of geniuses. Heck she had threatened a group of armed and violent men, each twice her size, with nothing but a bow and guts. Noise rang in the distance and he moved, he jumped from the tree, having underestimated the hight and dropped hard on his feet. The leaves were slick under his boots, and he heaved to get a decent grip to start a run. Nonetheless he ran for Gwen as quickly as he could, his feet stung and numb against the ground and the grass. 

He found Gwen in a fairy circle of walker corpses, each an arrow stuck in their head or a knife wound through their temple. She arched her arm and fired another arrow from the draw, catching another of the dead between the eyes. He too moved forward and killed two walkers closest to him, and as the last one fell he squinted at the woman before him.

She stood face to face with another, and as his vision came into focus, he breathed a sigh of relief. The woman, stood, two pet walkers at her side, clad in bloodied clothes with a stained sword in hand, staring down at the bodies before her, mute like the day he had met her. "Michonne!" he called and the woman whipped up her head, dreads flying gracefully over her shoulder. "Daryl?" she breathed, uncertain and doubting her own eyes. He instantly gravitated towards her and slapped an arm around her. She was stunned, her eyes wide open, her arms hanging limply at each side, the rope she was holding slipped out of her hand, releasing the walkers she had kept. His hands shook as he held her, but quickly released her to look at the woman before him.

"Can't believe it" he spat, looking back at Gwen, who was grinning from ear to ear. Michonne's eyes darted over him in disbelief, as if he was some sort of spectre, or figment of her imagination. He was at a loss for word, and had no idea what to say to her and so he just absently squeezed her arm and looked at her.

"Migrating with walkers, very clever. I didn't know you could domesticate them" Gwen rang, as she took up the rope that had been dropped, squinting at the creatures that moaned in confusion.

"It keeps the walkers from- they don't notice you" She breathed, turning to look at Gwen, who was of course a stranger to her. "Smart" Gwen commented. Silence fell between them, and Daryl finally found what he wanted to say "I'm glad we found you."

He regretted his choice of words as soon as he had said them, but as her face split into a smile, he didn't care. Tears bubbled in her eyes, and she nodded heavily, her lip quivering "Me too."

Exhausted with her situation, she fell against him. Her head finding the crook of his neck, he could feel her breath against his chest and her hitched tears. He sighed in relief, unable to fathom that they had actually found one of his people, and so close to them. She must have been in these woods for a while, judging by the state of her. "Hey" Gwen called, to which she turned. She dug in her rucksack, and retrieved a water bottle and handed it to Michonne. "you must be dehydrated" Gwen called, motioning for her to sit against some trees away from the corpses. The exhausted woman nodded and took the water, not even questioning where it came from and listened.

After they sat down, and Gwen had forced some canned pineapple down Michonne's throat, they talked. "You know if any others made it?" Daryl dared to ask, to which she shook her head. He drew in a breath, his chest closing, but then she paused in her movement. "There were signs, out by the road" she then said, a slight hint of shame in her voice. He assumed she hadn't dared to follow them, afraid to find people turned, people they knew. He couldn't blame her for that, he might have done the same.

"Can you show Daryl?" Gwen then said, causing them both to look at her. "What dyou mean?" he asked, his voice slightly sharper than he had wanted it to be. Why just him? Was she planning on leaving? Michonne eyed the look shared between the two of them, confused and wondering.

"Yeah. I'll go to the map, and leave a message for whoever passes, you can follow up on her lead. It's the quickest ways to get both tasks done. You'll have her to watch your back, she seems strong enough." Gwen explained, as she came to a stand. "We'll go together." Daryl bit "You're not going out there alone, besides Michonne needs a rest" he said, deciding for his previous companion, who had remained silent.

"The trail will go cold" Gwen said, calmly, her eyes narrow and sharp. Daryl shook his head and moved to say something, but as he opened his mouth her expression turned foul. "Dear god! Don't be such a pain! What. Do you need me to hold your hand?!" She near shouted, a sliver of saliva launched in her vile. Her nose scrunched up and she turned on her heel. "You are seriously useless!" She slipped out of her rucksack and threw it at Michonne. "You'll need that!" she barked as she quickly distanced himself from them.

A cold rushed over his hands, having formed themselves into fists on their own, squeezing it tight enough to cut off his blood circulation. He knew exactly what she was doing, and he hated her for it. Michonne watched as the stranger moved away from her, broad paced and fast on her feet. "She didn't tell me her name" she said, looking up at him expectantly. She didn't need to give her her name, as she didn't expect to see either of them again. She had cut him loose, cut the cord that she held around his neck. Nobody could go at it alone these days, everyone needed a group, many had told him that same thing over and over, that now he couldn't bare to hear it anymore. Only she had survived this awful place on her own, unhappy and afraid in the dark. But she had, survived and thrived.

There had been no need for her to renovate that mansion, to build that safe haven for others, she didn't have to save him, nor did she have to take in the girl. She was fine. She would survive. And now she knew that he would chose his people over her, and made sure he never had to make that choice. So he pissed him off, and left him to leave without even once looking back at her. She would be a footnote in his story and that was fine.

By leaving him in the way she did she was doing him a favour. She made sure that he did not have to add yet another guilty and remorseful memory to the ones he already held. She made sure that he did not feel responsibly for sending her away, and it would have worked had he not gotten to know her well enough to see when she was lying.

Daryl had been biting the inside of his cheek so often and so intensely that the flesh had started to tear. "You good to go?" he asked Michonne, who much like him had watched Gwen even after she was long out of their sight. She nodded, and swung to her feet, perfectly aware that he wasn't in the mood for any conversation just yet. Her gloved hand found him, and pulled him up. She pointed him towards their destination and they slowly came to a steady pace. But with each step his boots seemed heavier, and his mouth dryer.

_It was better this way_

Michonne had taken the rucksack, as Gwen had suggested and swung it over her shoulder. Daryl noted that she had difficulty walking, but he couldn't bring himself to ask why. He knew why, she'd run into some trouble somewhere, tripped or got her leg pinned, something along those lines. He didn't have to know the details, he know he should just adapt to her pace to prevent further injury. Michonne wasn't one to complain, ever, she just bore whatever it was in silence, and only conveighed her discomfort via a knotted brow, and you only noticed that if you knew her well, and he did.  
Both being too tired and overwhelmed to talk, their walk was a peaceful one. Michonne just looked at him now and again, revelling in his company, and only threw short remarks about when she had noticed his face contort in thought. She had poked fun at his hair, noting that his matted bangs now surpassed even his eyes. He had grunted in response and brushed them aside to prove that his vision was still as unimpaired as ever.

Then after half an hour of heaving footwork, she noted the fading bruise on his face. "That girl catch you peeping at her or something?" she said, flashing a short smile to emphasise her joke. He scoffed and shook his head, tracing the mark with his finger. "Naww, she saved me from a whole lot worse" he answered, feeling his heart drop considerably after he finished his sentence. Michonne seemed to notice and pouted, her eyes sliding to their corners to look at him. "Must be some girl."

Daryl didn't reply, he just shot her a look and she knew that he'd rather not talk about it. Though she didn't mention it again, she however did hum a 'hmhm' and rose a brow at him before dropping the subject.

"Hmmm, that was a fine piece a tail you let get away lil' brother" Merle rang in his ear. He swatted behind him, trying to rid himself of he buzz, but to no avail. He did however drew Michonne's eye who looked at him in confusion. He just shrugged, forced to listen to his brother's rantings. "You felt them 'lil titties right? Nice n firm, pfew! Don't know how you could walk away from that, not after that tumble. You were right to leave that spic, but I'da hit it before I quit it." Daryl could just hear the spit that followed after. "Waisted opportunity!" His brother carried on but his noise was replaced by the sweet chiming of bells, blocking him out and cooling his temper.

They came upon a muddy road, and Michonne crouched to look at it better. In the mud two pairs of prints headed to the left. Daryl knelt beside her, his index finger gently rimming the outline of a print. "Man and a kid, could be Rick and Carl" he breathed, which she agreed with. "Man's injured though, swaying over the path, pace irregular... he's in bad shape" he concluded.

"It's been a few days" Michonne added and Daryl reluctantly agreed. "C'mon" Daryl ordered, quickening their pace and following the trail till they came across a town or more like the start of a neighbourhood. They eyed each other and without any effort slipped back into their old partnership. Daryl gestured, his fingers pointing and whirling and Michonne complied as they entered their first building.

"They still got some fight in em" Daryl pointed out, poking the corpse on the floor with his finger, making the head roll to the side. Michonne scrunched up her nose and eyed the room, looking for any more signs that they were actually here. "Been stripped of food, if there was any to begin with" she commented. "Yeah, lets move on" Daryl ordered as he rose, his joints complaining as he did. He found Michonne, eyeing a note on the table, her eyes glazed over and cold. Daryl drew in a breath, and tapped her shoulder. Slowly a light came back to her eyes and she briefly smiled at him, before her expression returned to stoic.

As they left the barbecue place, Michonne took her sword to a random walker, who happened to walk by. She grunted and set it's scalp flying and splattering against the asphalt. Daryl eyed the motorcycles parked outside, vowing that if they had time that he would come back for one, provided they had gas or that they could scavenge some.

Minutes passed before Michonne raised her fist for Daryl to stop. They had checked three houses prior, and had yet to find any real evidence of life. Sure there were a few slain walkers about, but those could have died awhile ago. One couldn't exactly tell when something that was already dead, died again.

Her hand caressing the hilt of her sword, readying herself to draw she drew closer to the building. Daryl took his crossbow in hand and followed, his back turned to keep a look out for stragglers. However when he turned back to look at what his companion had found and he saw the tears welling up in her eyes, he could hardly believe it. He appeared beside her, and as gently as he could manage pushed her aside so he could see it for himself.

And there they were, blurred by the curtain, but very real and very alive. His hand cramped and his eyes widened and he and Michonne shared a look of relief.


	17. Chapter 17

Life after the dead  
Chapter 17

Hours had passed and they now sat around the table in the kitchen, normal as could be. Rick had been beaten up pretty badly, his face was swollen and thick and he moved as if he was cut from wood. They had been at a loss for words once they finally saw each other. Rick had simply crashed into the two of them, engulfing both of them in a hug, while Carl stood awkwardly behind him, awaiting his turn. They had laughed and sighed in relief to see the other still lived, a sliver of hope blooming in their hearts that others might have made it as well.

After Rick had told his version of what transpired at the prison, and what had happened to wind them up there, Daryl ruffled Carl's hair, proud to hear what he had done to protect his father. He in turn bragged about his endeavours about how he had to take the lead while his father was injured and how he had cleared the houses in the street by himself. Rick had looked at his son with guilt burned into his eyes. It must have felt unnatural to him, seeing as he had always taken care of his boy, to now have to depend on his son, who was barely a teenager.

After they had shared a meal of found cornflakes and the canned fruits out of Michonne's rucksack they arrived at the serious portion of their talk. Glad as they were to see each other again, there needed to be clarity about what was to be done. Rick had refused his role of leader before the prison went up in smoke, and now yet again they gravitated towards him. Carl had taken care of his father for the last week or so, and still he looked to him for leadership. Michonne was no different and even for Daryl it felt natural to listen and comply to whatever Rick decided.

"So what's the plan?" Michonne dared to ask once they had all cleared their throats of tears and caught their breaths. "This place, is it...home? Or just a stop along the way?" she pressed, even when she noted the discomfort on Rick's face.

"Let's just...stay here, while we figure it out" he said, unsure of himself and awaiting a reaction as if he had asked a question instead. Michonne paused and looked him over, before deeply nodding. "We'll need some supplies" she traced, her eyes gravitating towards the door already. The rucksack still had a few cans left and some other things, but nothing that would keep them alive for very long, after all it was only packed for the two of them and only for a day or two.

Daryl tuned out the conversation, lost in thought, his mind wandering to the tanned girl in the big house, wondering if she was okay. He had done her good by leaving, and staying with his people. He would not distract her, not get her killed. She would be fine. She would live in that big mansion with the African woman and the child... She would fight to defend them. Daryl paused his thoughts; even if he were gone, there would still be the other two. Nomusa wasn't exactly helpless but there was no way of knowing whether or not she was actually skilled or even to be trusted. They had shown her the ropes and lead her into their home without even so much as a second thought.

_Their home.  
_  
A hand found his shoulder. Rick squinted at him, inhibited by the bruising on his face. He had said something to him, but he hadn't caught what it was. When he turned to Michonne for a clue he found that she was already gone. Daryl just nodded at his friend, assuming he had asked him if he was alright. He gestured to the counter where Michonne had sat and Rick answered, already knowing what the question would be. "On a run, with Carl, gather supplies" he summed up matter of factly.

"Right" Daryl muttered absently.

Rick nodded, knowing he should leave him be, and rose from his chair. He heaved and huffed as he came to a stand, seemingly having let his guard down now that his son was no longer in the room. Daryl frown and gestured at his chest. "Leshave a look at them wounds" he rang, slamming his crossbow onto the table and gesturing with his hands. He roughly unbuttoned the shirt and found thick and discoloured bruises all over Rick's chest, the most intense patch on his ribs, similar to his own.

Without a whole lot of protesting Rick allowed himself to be taken upstairs and had him bind his bruise and the ribs that were shattered beneath it no doubt. "Took quite the pounding" Daryl commented as he worked the bandage over the skin, careful not to wrap it too tightly. Rick breathed a short laugh, shaking his head "governor is off worse."

Daryl let out a pleased but low gruff and finished up the wrapping. Silence took them for a moment before Rick tried to find his eyes. He hadn't noticed he'd been lost in thought again. "It's good you found us, Daryl. It means everything" he said, hitting Daryl square in the chest. If Gwen had not sent him on his way, or even urged them to leave notes at the maps, he might have missed his window, he might never have found them all together.

"Almost didn't" Daryl admitted, as he eyed his own hands, afraid to watch Rick's expression change. But he seemed to understand. He and Carl hadn't searched for others either. His first priority had been to his son, and he had not dared to face the possibility of having to look at their friend's bodies or even worse, having to kill a friend that had turned.

"There is a girl" Daryl started. Rick shifted his weight. "She's got a place we can go, where we'll be safe" he explained, only then daring to look at his friend again. His chest eased as he saw only soft emotions in his eyes. "Fences, traps, plenty of space, isolated from other buildings" He continued, as if he was trying to sell Rick some Teflon pan and was showing him all the features.

"And she'll take us?" Rick wondered, clearly questioning the validity of the deal, it did sound too good to be true. He had to admit. Daryl nodded. "Saved my sorry ass, tended to me when I was out. She's good people, if a bit weird." "Weird we can handle" Rick said, flashing an oh so tired smile. His eyes lighting up. It must have been the first good thing he'd heard in weeks. Rick was beaten and broken and clinging to his friend for relief. He reached over and weakly squeezed Daryl's arm, as if to thank him.

From downstairs a ruckus erupted and the voices of all too familiar men travelled upstairs. He instantly found his friend, and pulled down his shirt to cover his wounds and hastily started to button them. Rick answered his panic with wide spread eyes of his own, and a shaking hand which sought an exit. The men downstairs were loud and obnoxious and they both knew that if they were to get caught that they would die. It was then that Joe entered the kitchen and discovered something.

A scuffle and shouting of words erupted and Daryl had only caught some. "That sum'bitch Daryl is here! This is _his_ fucking Crossbow!" another disagreed with him and opted that he might have already left, to which Joe presumably punched him. A howling yelp followed by a thud "he'd never leave without it! Besides that means that wetbacker is here too" he hissed to where the men fell silent after some growls. "Find him!" Two took to the stairs, judging by the sound of it, and they had to move fast!

Rick had pried open the window and gestured for him to follow in a drunken and panicked way. He turned back to the door for a moment, his hands shaking at the thought of leaving his bow behind. He wasn't stupid, he knew that he could never take on Joe's gang of poxy bastards without any artillery or at least back up, heck they'd only made it out of the last situation because Gwen threatened them and took a hostage. He didn't stand a chance now!

"C'mon!" Rick hissed under his breath and pulled at his arm. Reluctantly he reciprocated and followed him onto the roof. Unarmed and completely exposed they shifted, trying to remain as silent as possible while keeping out of sight. It was easy enough to keep hidden in the woods, but shifting on a rooftop was a whole other matter. They shared a look and Daryl moved to support Rick as he lowered himself.

Being injured and weakened by lack of food and rest, Rick was slow, jagged and groaning as he hung from the ledge. Breathing through his teeth, sending slivers of spit flying in his exertion, he finally dropped to the deck below. Daryl quickly joined him, with a bit more grace than his companion and too dropped to the ground. His boots made loud thuds on the woodwork, sending shivers through his spine. He perched himself, listening to the rabble that moved and shouted in doors. They didn't seem to have caught wind of them, and so the swiftly moved down the steps.

They lingered there for a moment, staying as low as possible before swinging around the side of the house. They moved, glued to the wall with Daryl on point until Rick pulled him back. "Carl and Michonne'll come back here" he hissed, his eyes wide in panic as they darted between Daryl and the building. He was right, after they'd finished their run they would definitely return to the home and run right into their arms. He took his friend's arm and squeezed it to the point where it hurt, claiming his attention.

"I'll draw them off, you get Michonne to take you to the field where we found her, you head west from there, watch for the traps and follow the signs. Blow the whistle. Gwen will find you" he quickly explained. "She'll take care of you" he added. Rick was hesitant, immediately understanding what would happen to Daryl were he to break cover. His lips formed a thin line and his breathing grew even more laboured under his wounds. He knew that he would only be a burden to Daryl if he stayed and fought with him. When he had to run, Rick would slow him down, his best chances were on his own. Like they had always been.

Daryl pushed Rick back, forcing the decision, and took to the patio, stomping loudly as he could. He then lingered in font of the door, peering inside for movement and at the first yelp he turned and dug his heels deep into the woodwork, praying that god might forgive him for his lack of faith and grant him speed either way. His heart pounded as he whipped far from Rick, and moved to the edge of the woods, followed by thundering steps and hounding voices.

He didn't have to check to know that the entire group had bled out of that house in pursuit, each of them would have been keen on breaking his every bone, bleeding him dry and pissing on what was left after what had happened. He had gone with the woman that killed one of their men, and threatened two others, among which Joe himself. Granted they were going to kill him at the time, he still went with that murderer, making him equally guilty for the deaths, as they would no doubt remind him as they beat him.

Daryl wasn't a stranger to physical violence, heck he was used to it if anything. He had always thought that he would go out by fist as opposed to by bullet or bite. Gwen was right, all he could do is buy other people more time, and he had done just that. Rick, Michonne and Carl would go free and Gwen would continue to protect them. They would be fine. All he had to do is keep Joe and his band of misfits occupied long enough to buy them enough time. He just hoped Rick would be long gone before his body gave out.

The leaves were slick and dead beneath his feet, making his path more slippery and dangerous as he ran. The men behind him were unpractised and clumsy in their ways. They were hunters sure, but in no way accustomed to chasing someone down. They were the kind to fight in numbers, corner something before killing it in their family kill circle. Daryl wasn't about to be outsmarted in the woods. Nature was his element and there was no way he was getting cornered in a space this wide.

He tried his best to chose a path that would be difficult to follow. He leaped over roots that stuck from the ground, hoping it would trip one of them, or slide down a steep descend in hopes they would miss the edge, but so far his efforts had only been to minimal avail. They were slow and sluggish but were driven by their anger. It would only be a matter of time.

They shouted some abuse at him but he didn't listen. He couldn't even really hear it over the thundering pound that his brother had brought to his head. Daryl could feel the smack that Merle would have given him for what he was doing, and the teeth-sucking that would have followed. "Knew your sentiment would get you killed 'lil brother" he said slowly, laced with disappointment.

His hand had snagged on a tree he passed, or it may have been a nail. He couldn't really tell anymore. It was bleeding some, which he only saw when he swung it into his line of sight to move a thicket out of the way. A flash of red against the green and brown, it was almost beautiful in a sense. Daryl moved down a slope, similar to the one he braced when he impaled himself in an arrow, his feet slapping in the stream that was so shallow it didn't deserve to be called one.

It was only then that he dared to look up to see his attackers, but as he did he wish he hadn't. They were a lot closer than he had thought. His senses were beginning to dull, his fingers feeling faint. Blood loss? But he hadn't even cut himself, or at least not that deep.

A voice then called, a familiar one at that. "Daryl!" Joe called, and even though ever fibre of his being told him not to comply and to keep running, he turned and found the broader man's eyes. "What are you running for?" he had said, his arms offered up, his brow thick with sweat.

With his breaths he tasted blood and he knew he couldn't go much further. His best chance of buying time was giving in. He wanted to make some sharp remark at Joe but as he parted his lips he found his throat and mouth to dry to produce anything. So he just stared, trying to catch his breath as inconspicuously as he could manage. He knew that in a few seconds he would be surrounded.

"There's no need for violence, is there men?" He asked to his group who turned in confusion. Their hyena like grins disappointing his their leader spoke. "You didn't kill our man, you weren't to blame" he started, luring Daryl in a false sense of security. "You can be redeemed for you actions! Now, all you gotta do is tell us where to find the girl" he offered, tilting his head and smiling as if he was actually offering him mercy.

Daryl instantly shook his head. He had considered lying and making up some elaborate excuse to buy more time, but he couldn't bare to mouth such things. It was too much like a betrayal. "Don't know where she is."

Joe snorted and raised his finger, tapping the air like a scolding teacher. "Now Daryl you disappoint me. That, is a lie. I expected you had learned your lesson by now" His face flattened and darkened, only proportioned by the whites of his eyes and the shimmer of his teeth.

It was an expression he knew well, though it was usually preceded by half a crate of beers. What would follow was abuse and blame, a fist to his face and a belt to his back. This was nothing he hadn't experienced before, but he couldn't help but choke at the prospect of it.

He gave the order, and two of his men made their way down the slope, heavy and hungry for blood. Daryl knew that if he were to fight these two men, that only more men would move down the slope, and he would have more against him. More knuckles to break his ribs and rip his spleen, more boots to kick his head when he went down. But as they men descended and came upon him, his body took over and moved and danced. He avoided the most obvious blows and landed a few of his own. He fought dirty knowing that they would not show any restraint either.

_He had to buy time._

The men came upon him with iron fists and the stock of their guns. He grunted and shook at the shattering of his bones and the swelling of his face and tried to think of better things as his body broke. He thought of his brother, and how he would choke back tears at his death. He thought of Beth who would start to bawl at the sight of him. He thought of Rick who would scream at the sky and fall to the ground. He thought of Carol would paralyse and never be the same. He thought of Michonne who would break into pieces. He thought of Gwen, but didn't know what she would do. In his life before he would have never dared to hope that people would care, or that people would miss him when he were gone. The end had given him a new purpose, and chances he would never have had otherwise.

He was bleeding internally, and he had punctured a lung? Maybe... he couldn't tell. His legs had gone numb, as had his gut. He drowned out their voices as dull strikes came down on his head and colour drew from his vision before everything went dark.


	18. Chapter 18

Life after the dead  
Chapter 18

The hair on his arms stood at attention as he woke, feeling dull and dusted. His limbs were numb and his head felt even more so. He found himself on the perch of the prison, on the cot he had dragged there, preferring a lack of privacy over a incarceration. It was his bed, the one he had assigned himself to in the prison. Even after things calmed down he never really left it. It offered him a good overview of the cell block and allowed him to spring into action whenever anything went wrong, which it often did before the calm.

His hand traced the concrete to his side, hardly believing it to be real. It was cold to the, his fingers did not seem to recognise it as real or even register it to be there. Then, someone passed him, and he whipped himself up to look at them. "You alright? You look like you've seen a ghost!" a girl rang, a smile set on her lips so thick it almost made him gag. The sweet blonde nodded and went back to whatever she was doing, taking her away from him. He had just looked her in the eye, and he was sure he knew her. That girl looked an awful lot like Amy, and he should know he had to hear Merle's slander about how hot her little blonde ass was on multiple occasion.

"You do look a bit pale, my friend" another voice rang and he didn't have to look at them to know who had called out to him. He'd recognise Hershel's voice anywhere. It was calm and low and practically rang like a farm. Hershel stood inside a cell at the end of the perch. And as Daryl came upon him he seemed pink and healthy, without a speck of blood or injury. There wasn't a mark on him and his neck was still whole. Daryl had to fight the urge to reach over and follow the line which he knew had ripped open his arteries and forced him to bleed out.

"Looks okay now, doesn't it" he said, as he reached for the spot himself, tracing the invisible line with his index finger. "But I saw you..." Daryl muttered, trying to make sense of it all. "Go 'n find that brother of yours" Hershel then said calmly, nodding and smiling through his beard in that way that used to annoy him to no end.

He found his brother, leaning against a car outside, another blonde whom he knew to have died sat beside him, smiling and laughing about something Merle had said. It wasn't until he turned from her and stood widespread to greet his brother, that she too noticed him. "Daryl" Andrea rang, drowning out his brother's laughing. "Looking good kid" she said, brushing a stray hair from her eyes.

"Lil brother!" Merle near shouted, hicking with laughs as he wrapped his arms around Daryl. Daryl eyed the situation with confusion, surprisingly numb and unfeeling about what was happening. His brother was bulky and surprisingly warm against him. A firm slap to his back followed as he broke apart to look at his little brother, his eyes shimmering slightly with emotion, not unlike he had predicted.

The courtyard and field were much like he remembered; green with the cars relatively clean and the 'barns' still erect and whole. There were fruitful crops where Hershel stood tending to the vines and soil. To the back of him stood a group of people, all sat at the table, eating their dinner, chatting, some taking down the laundry. People he knew well, and knew to be very dead. Some had died during the attack, but most had already passed with the sickness.

"Beth here?" he near whispered, only briefly looking at his brother as he spoke, before again resuming his scan of the surrounding area. "Girl named Beth was here for a lil bit, real cosy with the old man" Merle muttered clearly uninterested in discussing her. "She went back"

On the far side stood the walkers, weakly waving and clawing at the fence. Nobody was tending to the fences, killing the walkers through the shingles, but there wasn't any real need either. The dead just stood there, weakly leaning, as opposed to their usual clawing and groaning and fighting for a bite of living flesh. Like him, they seemed dazed and unsure of their surroundings.

Merle drew him back, apparently having send Andrea on her way. "We need ta talk, Daryl" he bit, cleaning his teeth with his tongue. Daryl squinted at his brother, feeling odd under his touch. "Now, don't be thinking I aint happy to see ya, I am" he started, before his expression grew slightly more dark. "But I didn't get my ass shot so you could get yerself killed anyway" he bit, slightly harsher than before.

Daryl's eyes slanted, his lids lowering as did his head, his brother looked at him with piercing eyes, as he had often done when putting him in his place. "Had people to save" Daryl retorted, shrugging his brother's hand off his shoulder. "Yea..." Merle answered, his voice trailing off as he turned from him, trying to find something to say.

"You get back there now, you hear" Merle breathed, prodding his finger against his little brother's chest. "Prison's gone" Daryl retorted, his eyes trailing to the people at the table, to which Merle shook his head. "You find yourself a new place, new people. You can make that place your home" he said, his voice softening to a point where Daryl hardly recognised it.

"You be happy"

Death had made Merle softer, kinder and less afraid. He had never seen his brother like this only once before. He had come home from a sit in juvie, after their mother died, and only then heard what had happened. Merle had sat outside their burned out house, a bottle of indescribable booze in his hand, his cheeks flushed with pink and red and his eyes carried an equally rose colour. He was only twelve at the time, and Daryl was even younger. He had found him before sundown, after spending a good part of the day looking for him.

Then, as Merle wept and drunk, he was kind to Daryl. Merle was overtaken by his grief but even more so by his pity for Daryl, who now had to face their father alone. His father had bruised him badly, as he had his brother and it was then that Merle cried for him, and told him how sorry he was, over and over and over until his voice went.

He carried the same look now, behind his eyes, in his words and tone. He was sorry for Daryl. "You go back now, you hear?" he said, his voice hitching a bit at the end of his words. He didn't know what to say.

A loud pounding entered his ears , a foghorn of some description, deafening and loud and repeated more than once. He opened his eyes to only see blurs and colours in places they shouldn't be. Near him stood Joe, crouched and looking around, blurting something to his men. Something glinted in is hand. His body felt welded to the ground and a thousand times heavier than it ever had been. "Must have been a lot of squirrel" he repeated to himself, the corners of his lips tugging. A scuffle erupted and Joe moved, shouting something about killing something else.

There was screaming and fighting and splashing of blood, followed by gunfire and lots of it. Or maybe the sound before was gunfire? He could no longer tell. The deafening noise sounded again, and a walker fell dead beside him. Someone screamed, and some flesh was ripped. Must have been a bite, Daryl concluded as he searched his vision of the scene. Something else died and there were sounds of running.

The moans were deafening. At the far side, he could see them, crowded together, dark and dead. A horde had passed through the town and found them. Two had fallen down to their knees and had taken to mauling someone that had died, or maybe he was still dying, Daryl couldn't tell.

Something tugged at his boot, a walker in all likelihood. Though he knew what lay in wait for him if he were bitten, he didn't panic of feel much of anything at all. Maybe they had kicked his head one to many times or maybe he had just finally had enough. Maybe he had snapped, he didn't know, but he didn't fight the walker that pulled at him.

There was snarling and growling in different locations, the group furthest from him, that was being drawn off by the excessive violence an noise Joe's group was producing, and then the voice closer to him. It moaned and groaned without a rasp, and it sounded almost human. Daryl laughed at the possibility, there was no way.

Minutes of growling had passed and he had yet to be bitten. Numb and drunk on pain he eyed his feet, to see a figure slanted over him, hair in front of its face, covered in grime and blood. Definitely a walker. Then the moaning an clawing stopped, and the figure whipped its head up. Forceful hands reached up and rubbed something disgusting on his skin and clothes, the smell indescribable but too distinguishable to be mistaken for anything but walker guts. Daryl sputtered as something splashed onto his lip, only to be shushed immediately.

His noise had already attracted the two that had taken to the one that had fallen, and turned to him. The figure brought about a leg and raised itself, slicing off one of the walker's arms, and continued to the other. A stream of blood slid down his brow, his own he thought, forcing shut his eyes and he could only hear splashes, the snapping of bones, and upset moans.

He growled, not being able to lift his arms, or even move an inch of his body. Another snap and shriek pierced his eardrum an he threw open his eyes, allowing the red to bleed into his eye. He blinked rapidly as it stung, trying to expel it with his lashes. Walkers killing walkers, this is something he had to see. He tried to turn his head, but only caught a blur of what was happening. The dead one had used Michonne's trick and domesticated the two walkers. The dead were evolving? That made no sense...

A highpitched sound rang in his ear and his vision blurred completely before it shifted to black.


	19. Chapter 19

Life after the dead  
Chapter 19

"No no no no no! Come on you piece of absolute shit!" Gwen called angrily, whacking the steering wheel and kicking her feet about the compartment. The car she had taken had been running on empty from the moment she had started it up, but she had hoped it would have at least gotten her a little further. They were not even nearly back at the mansion and found themselves at the start of a town, a small one at that. She peered over her shoulder to see the wounded hunter in the back seat, sprawled out and breathing heavily.

Gwen rubbed something out of her eye, only to smear ghoul guts on her face instead. She gagged. Sure she had gotten used to the smell by now, and it didn't really bother her that much when she was ripping into them, but to be covered in it was something completely different. She buried her face in her disgusting hands and took a deep breath. Her hands travelled over her skin, fingers pulling it down, leaving a tingling sensation behind. It was for the first time, in a long time, that she had no idea what to do. She had always taken care of herself just fine, and even with her newest companions she hadn't done too poorly, but now, having a wounded man who was slightly taller than her but a whole lot heavier, a car without juice, and a ghoul army about, complicated things. It had been nearly impossible to move the man to the road and hoist him into the car, there was no way she could carry him all the way to the mansion. She would surely collapse!

She had looked him over, and as he still seemed to breathing and his heart was still beating, she assumed that he would be quite alright. He had been beaten to an inch of his life, but he was a tough little cracker, he'd be fine. Or at least, that's what she kept telling herself. "We're screwed" she told herself, to which she replied with a sigh and the shake of her head. "We'll be fine" she convinced the voice that had left her lips and opened the car door.

It could have been a lot worse. At the end of the street she could see houses, and she reckoned that she would be able to carry him that far, though she might have to set him down once somewhere in the middle. They would at least have shelter, and maybe the houses hadn't been completely looted yet. "Shouldn't have given that bag to the chick with the dreadlocks, we need that food" she said out loud. "How was I supposed to know that, besides, she needed it too. She looked like death itself" she reasoned. "Still you sent her with away though, should've gone with them. None of this would have happened!" she cursed loudly, her voice dancing through the empty street.

"Fuck it."

She moved back to the car, and dug her heels in, throwing open the door so she could reach Daryl. She swung around her bow, leaving the swash on her back and shoved her arrows down the side of her belt. She didn't really care for quivers, as they were clumsy and awkward but now she scolded herself for not bringing one. She checked her knife, finding it next to her arrows and wondered if she shouldn't hold onto it. If something jumped them, they'd be easy pray and dead in a minute. "Don't be fucking stupid, you'd cut yourself or him, what if he slipped..." she reasoned with herself, and left it where it hung.

Eyeing the hunter she came to a conclusion, and spread his legs as best she could. She shoved one of them off the seat, and propped the other one up so she could sit between them. Then, with her back to the hunter, she sat and leant backwards until she was flat against his chest. She pulled his arms over her shoulder, and locked them, then she dug for one of her pockets and retrieved a piece of string and tied the wrists together. "Don't want you slipping" she explained rather comically to the knocked out hunter. She rose, and slid her hands under his back to press him against hers. "Upsy daisy~" she groaned. The motionless husk didn't move or make a sound indicating discomfort, and so she shrugged and shimmied him into a more comfortable position. Sliding her legs from the seat, she pressed them firmly into the ground and dragged Daryl closer to the edge, his legs sprawled in the most awkward position.

"I'm probably going to drop your feet after a while. You're very heavy" Gwen explained as she slid her arms under his knees and hoisted him. She locked him in place, and slowly rose, careful to avoid the roof of the car on the way up. She groaned loudly as the larger man weighed her down, his head had whipped over her shoulder and now hung limply beside her face. She eyed it from the corner of her eye and smiled. "Not that I'm not enjoying this tender moment, but this is all a bit sudden" she joked to herself, hoping it would lighten the strain on her muscles somehow. She hicked out a laugh, much appreciating her own joke.

She hadn't even made it halfway there before she had to pause and catch her breath. Her chest expanded and her mouth tasted of metal, a sure indication that her current exertion wasn't doing her any good. "I shouldn't complain really, can't be hurting more than you are" she told Daryl as she readjusted him. She could feel some of his blood now sticking to her back, and a drizzle was running down her arm. There wasn't time to thoroughly check him for wounds, so she had just given him a quick look over and once they got to the car she ripped her shirt to tie off two bleeders. Evidently there were more, but she couldn't risk setting him down, as she might not be physically capable to pick him back up and she wasn't about to leave him behind.

The road was clear, but the asphalt was rough on her feet. She had gotten blisters, or at least that's what she assumed. It had been a while since she had taken her shoes off, but they stung horribly. In all likelihood she had stepped open a blister or a cut or something like that, some dirt had gotten in it and it probably got infected that way. "Or maybe I'm just being a little bitch" she scolded herself. She could take care of it when they were all safe and sound and Daryl was tended to, not a moment before.

Daryl still hung limply over her shoulder, his shaggy hair poking her in the eye now and against as his head bobbed and shifted. She had taken to just keeping her right eye closed, but he still tickled her lid. She was about to scold his unconscious ass when she saw something shift at the end of the road, near the houses. She clutched Daryl closer to her, and considered jumping into the treeline, but she knew she wouldn't get far. If they were walkers, she had to drop em and fight, same thing if they were the surviving hunters. She squinted trying to focus her eyesight, but it simply wouldn't reach. "Better sorry than safe" she breathed and started a slight jog.

She considered calling out to them, but knew that if she so much as raised her voice, she might risk attracting the pack of walkers, or at least the stragglers they left behind. Truthfully that pack had been a blessing to her, it was only because of them that she was able to save him. They had offered her the perfect window, and all she needed to do lead them. Ghouls follow the one in front, and so, all she took that spot and guided them to where she needed them to go, she just hoped and prayed to some deity that they would keep to that direction and not circle back.

She came upon the houses, and dared to call out ever so slightly. Her volume was limited, but if it had been a friendly that she had seen, they might feel compelled to react. Her arms were far too tired to keep carrying Daryl and she was going to have to find him a place. His brow was burning up and the blood had still not dried. "He's hurt" Gwen said, repositioning him to offer herself momentary relief. She whimpered as there was no reply, and turned to the house closest.

Before she had taken to climbing the stairs, she was greeted by a pair of brown eyes in the window, sparkling and young. "A kid?" she whispered, and immediately smiled, having learned that children like it when you do that, especially young ones. The eyes disappeared again, and Gwen called out to them. "Were you the one I saw earlier? I'm not gonna pounce on you, my buddy needs help!"

Within seconds, the eyes returned and were this time followed by two more pairs, one blue and the other in a shade she couldn't distinguish. The house was occupied by children. She had cleared her throat to plead with them, and ask them for shelter, but the door already opened. In the opening stood a young man, fair skinned with mouse like features. "Whatcha carrying that corpse for?" he called, his accent thick and Georgian. "He isn't dead!" Gwen near shouted, as if she was trying to convince herself instead of the stranger.

"Why are you carrying him?" he then asked, and Gwen couldn't resist a roll of her eyes. "Can we come in or not?!" she screamed, shooting daggers at the man. He in turn pouted and looked back at the children, who seemed to give their consent.

"Quick" a much younger and chippy voice rang, and a tiny hand reached for the young man who moved at the touch. A tiny version of him burst past him and stepped outside to help her with her 'baggage' and went behind her, pushing Daryl up by his butt, which would have been hilarious, had she not been stiff with muscle ache. "Thanks little potato" she commented as she heaved the hunter into the house. Nicknames were another thing that children seemed to enjoy. The young man gestured her into a room near the back and one of the children told her to set him down on the bed. She passed the man and the children and offered them a quick glance with a brief smile, before moving on.

When she turned and moved into the room as instructed she found a bunch of mattresses on the floor, with pillows and blankets scattered about. They had all been sleeping in a pile together. "Tiny pumpkin patch children, help me lower this log will you?" she cried, to which the little ones burst through the door, eager to assist, hands raised upwards and grabbing. Gwen grunted as she bent her knees, trying to narrow the distance between Daryl and the mattress, hoping to keep him from crashing into it. "Is he dead?" one of the children chirped, to which Gwen pulled a face. "You're all a bit grim, Christ" she mumbled.

One of the children, immediately pounced on the unconscious redneck and started prodding him. Gwen stretched her muscles and moaned before interrupting the child "Hey hey careful!" she called. The girl and pulled a face and started barking orders to the other children. "Sheets, rip em apart, this man needs bandages. Penny, get some water" she bit, to which the other two children immediately moved, dashing about the room. The child that had greeted them at the door darted for the sheets and pulled at the stitches, while Penny brushed past the young man, who was simply looking at them.

Gwen's body was tired and broken, but she didn't hesitate to take the boy's job from him. She took the sheet from him and nodded, signalling him that she would take over. The boy stared up at her with piercing blue eyes and pulled a face. "It's okay, I've got it" Gwen called as she started ripping the fabric into usable strips. The boy, clearly impressed with her strength, lingered for a moment longer, before taking the the other girl's side, who had taken to cutting open Daryl's shirt with a knife.

As she did, she revealed an almost sickening amount of bruises and cuts over his body. Dozen of busted veins lay beneath the surface, and blood had crept out of every exit it could find, yet the girl didn't flinch. Gwen too took to his body with the bandages she had made and went to work. There was a vigilant silence between them, a mutual understanding that they would speak and introduce themselves and figure each other out when the man before them was out if immediate danger. The wounds on his body were extensive, but they got ahead of all the bleeders and managed to stop them, or at least slow them down enough so that they could do stop of their own accord.

Daryl had become almost a funny vision, wrapped in light blue cloth as if he were a mummy. Gwen moved to ask whether or not they had needle and tread and something to sterilise him with, but before she could even mouth the words, Penny appeared with what they needed. Gwen had needed to slap on a lot of ghoul bits to get him out of those woods undetected and she feared that some of it may have found its way into his gashes. The girl next to her first cleaned the wounds with water, and then doused them in alcohol. They had half expected Daryl to flinch in the pain and fight them as they cleaned him up, but he had remained perfectly still during the process.

Suspicious of his inactivity Gwen moved to check his breathing and his pulse a few times during the process. To her relief any CPR was unneeded as he was doing well on his own. She tried to brush his lank hair out of his face, albeit unsuccessfully, to clear his eyes and brow. Penny handed her a wet cloth to clean his face and cool his head.

The girl who had tended to her friend so graciously then stood and popped her joints before disappearing into the house, presumably to fetch something. Gwen turned to the other two children and the young man she had seen before, who were all lingering near the door. It was a good a time as any to clear the air and figure each other out.

The boy started first, and placed a hand on his chest and called himself Connor, then pointed at his elder and identified him as his brother Liam. They did look similar; both had dark brown to even black hair, pale skin, piercing blue eyes and mouse-like features. Their noses were pointy and their ears almost unmanageable. Gwen thought them to be cute but couldn't help but wonder why it had been the younger that had spoken.

Penny then spoke up, a small girl, even for her age, Gwen thought. She must have been around ten or eleven though her speech did not comply with that estimate. She talked in a childish manner, as if she struggled with the words that left her mouth. She was kind though, when she introduced herself she did so with a shy smile. The little brunette was ringing her hands and looking down at the floor when she told Gwen that she was sorry if she mumbled. "I'm working on that" she had said, as if repeating something someone else had told her.

The blonde girl returned, bringing painkillers and introduced herself as she administered them to Daryl. Though completely unsuited for her personality the child was called Daisy. She sarcastically mentioned that she liked ponies and glitter and that she hoped that all the nations in the world would embrace peace. Gwen laughed at her, appreciating her spice. The girl rolled her eyes at her, and looked back at Connor, who Gwen assumed was the leader of the band.

The boy stood, his arms folded over his chest, biting his lip. He wasn't exactly comfortable with his position it seemed. "I'm Gwen" she said, trying to make the kid's job a little easier. "This is Daryl, he's not doing too great."

"What happened?" the boy then spoke, a little sharper than before, making Gwen smile a little. He was stepping up. Her eyes drifted to the young man, Liam, who seemed uninterested in her tale. She would assume that he'd be the leader, seeing as he was the eldest, but his eyes betrayed him. He was still a child.

"We ran into a violent group with a chip on their shoulder, they tried to kill Daryl. I killed a few of them, some by arrow, other by ghoul" she admitted, thinking honesty would be the best policy at this point. "They all dead?" Liam then said, his eyes wide and his interest peaked. His little brother looked at him disapprovingly, but allowed his question. "I don't know, this dude right here was my first priority" Gwen muttered, her eyes tracing back to Daryl.

"T-th-thats good" Penny chirped, her brown eyes tearing up a little. She wasn't exactly comfortable around people. "Daisy will take care of him, and-and Liam is a nurse so" she started, gesturing at both as she said their names. Daisy scoffed and rolled her eyes "Like I haven't got my hands full with you lot, already."

"We won't be any trouble, if he can just rest here till I find us a ride, we can go home." Gwen offered, to which the children connected in a single look. Connor nodded and the children poured out into the hallway to discuss their options. "Excuse us" Penny said, bowing slightly before closing the door.

Gwen turned to Daryl and touched him as gently as she could, cupping his face and brushing his obnoxious hair from his eyes. She cooled his brow with the cold cloth and thought of nice things to say, but couldn't bring herself to say any of them. She really did have awful bedside manner. She wanted to tell him that he'd be okay, but she couldn't possibly know that and she felt a liar for even thinking it. She did know however that she'd do everything in her power to save him. All she could do now was hope she'd made the right choice by stepping into this house.

Her fingers traced over her knife holster, absently pulling at the handle of her blade. Gwen's hand found her hair and pulled harshly as she contemplated her options. She did not want to kill those kids, whatever happened, whatever they'd try. Even if they came at them, she would protect Daryl but she would not kill them. A voice nagged at her, bubbling in the back of her head. She pressed against her brow firmly, hissing for it to shut the fuck up.

A mumbling of hushed voices carried back into the room, bleeding through the cracks in the door. Indistinguishable, but as expected they spoke of Gwen and Daryl. What they were going to do with them, and the risk in keeping them there. The boy said something about it being too dangerous, and Gwen was pretty sure that one of the girls called him something unfriendly. After a little more mumbling the boy finally emerged, and stepped back into the room.

"You said you had a home?"


	20. Chapter 20

Life after the dead  
Chapter 20

Gwen sat beside her friend, her legs neatly stuffed beneath her, cutting off her own blood supply with her thighs. She had been stuck in that position for a while now, but she couldn't really remember how long it had been, she just hadn't wanted to move, or even felt compelled to. She just simply watched Daryl, and peered out the window now and again, checking to make sure that they were still safe. Two of the children had taken to one of the other houses to scavenge, while Penny and Connor remained behind to both keep an eye on Gwen, as well as look after Daryl. They had struck a bargain but had yet to actually trust her. They kept an eye on her at all times, or at least had someone watch the door, which was usually poor Penny who seemed most uncomfortable with the position. She was chosen for it because she was too clumsy to handle a gun and too absent minded for most of the menial tasks the others were up to. She did try to help, and carried stuff around, or fetched things the others needed, but other than that she was without purpose and Gwen could tell that it was eating away at her.

Gwen hoped that when they all joined together at the mansion, that the children would find some peace. It had been two days since she had saved Daryl from being beaten to a pulp, though she feared she had come too late. Daryl's injuries were so much worse in comparison to the ones he had before. There was hardly a part of him that hadn't been hurt or bruised or broken. She had set him up as comfortably as she could, on that extremely aged mattress. His head lay propped up in a bundle of clothes that had been made available to her, his body bandaged with similar materials as they had run out of sheets to cut. Daryl was still and had been unmoving for the entire time. She thought she had seen him move in the forest, but she couldn't be sure, with everything that was going on she may well have imagined it. She ran her fingertips over the bruise on his temple, brushing the hair out of the cut that had divided his cheekbone. "I didn't expect to see you again"

On her way back from the first sign, she had come across an odd party. Instantly she had recognised the woman as the one she had saved earlier, and it wasn't hard to notice that Daryl was no longer with them, as their eyes were set with panic. Something had happened. The young boy with them had drawn a gun on her, but she had plainly ignored it and demanded to be told what had happened. The boy's father had thrown up his hand and in heaved bruised language he had explained himself, his state and the absence of his friend or at least he tried to. The woman however took over after the first few words. The woman looked at her in way that she didn't need explained as she explained herself in short brief sentences. Gwen directed them towards the house and ran in the direction they had described, her heart pounding with every step.

She had never really known the anger that coursed through her system then. Her chest felt heated and her fingers had spread into sharp digits, digging into the bark of trees and pushing her further to fasten her pace. She had bared her fangs in her feral state as she heaved the most laboured breaths. She wanted to scream, and claw something apart. The men that had taken Daryl were too disgusting to be touched by the clean tips of her arrowheads, the serenity of her knife would not be spoiled by their skin. Instead her fingers would tear into them, dirty, disgusting clawing that would put a walker to shame.

With the time she took to hot-wire a car, the time it took to find him, and the time it took to steer the walkers, she thought he'd already be dead. He was strong and tough but by all intends and purposes he should have been long dead when she found him. Even if they had taken their sweet time and had regular breaks, his body should have been destroyed. Her eyes began to sting a little, looking down at him. With a sigh she started to pry his hand open with her fingers, to hold him.

She had become a walker to save him, she had jumped out at one of the hunters and ripped out his throat, her nails had dug into his eyes and torn apart his features. The walkers shared in her bliss and joined her feast, finishing the husk she had left twitching. She folded herself over Daryl, claiming him and smeared guts over his body, affectively turning him for the other ghouls. He meant nothing to them now, at least not when there was a feast to be had. A party of flesh and loud sounds and screaming, movement and panic, that what brought life to their wilted tissue.

Gwen shivered at the memory, wondering about her lack of guilt as she pictured their demise. She squeezed Daryl's hand a little, wishing the images away.

From the open door, Penny had been staring at the exchange before her with wondering eyes. The little girl could tell that Gwen needed a distraction, and carefully stepped into the room, knowing well that the others had forbidden her to do so without another there. Gwen looked her over from the corner of her eye, trying to keep her expression at ease, as she knew well that her features sharpened even when she didn't intend them to. The brunette sat down at the other side of Daryl, at a distance as if she was scared to touch him.

She looked him over once, her toes curling in the mattress. She seemed so very small sitting there, as if she would snap in two if someone so much as sneezed on her. Gwen was more than familiar with kids like her, fragile and kind. The kind that usually didn't last all that long in the system. Their only hope was adoption and as fate would have it, they were usually the ones the parents were the least interested in.

"You together?" Penny mumbled, staring down at her own wiggling feet, afraid to look directly at Gwen as she dared such a bold question. Initially, Gwen had wanted to answer her, but as she thought about it, she realised she didn't really have an answer. She didn't even know if Daryl wanted to stay with her, she had never asked him. Theirs was a companionship of convenience, and now that there were people, she didn't know if that was still the case.

Truthfully, she hadn't seen this many living since she escaped the prison. For the longest time she thought that she was doomed to only be surrounded by death, as it had followed her always. That her loneliness was some kind of punishment for the things she had done. There were so many now, so many faces that she knew to still be alive. It was the most surreal feeling. She traced the scars on her chest bone absently before turning to the little girl.

"I hope so"

Penny looked at her in confusion and she scraped her throat to explain herself. "I think we get to chose our own family now, I hope he chooses to be a family with me" she rang, to which the girl nodded understanding. "I hope you guys stay with me too" Gwen then added, hoping to make her smile. Penny didn't however, and only stared at her blankly as if she hadn't even heard what had been said. Her slanted eyes drew to their connected hands once before she rose and left the room without a word.

Her actions were confusing to say the least, but Gwen couldn't bring herself to tear away from the injured archer. The girl must have had her reasons to act as she did and Gwen wasn't about to pry. Everyone had their demons, especially now that the world had gone to hell. The children seemed clean cut for as far as she could tell. They had yet to do the unspeakable things that would change them forever. The boy she had seen earlier, Daryl's people, he did have to glazed over eyes, much like the two that were with them. "I wonder if I have them too" she muttered, her digits dancing over the hunter's callused hand.

She knew very well that the children only agreed to take them home, in order to rob their place blind and that was okay. They wouldn't actually kill the both of them, in all likelihood they were going to lock them somewhere, knowing full well that Gwen couldn't leave as the archer was still stricken by his wounds. Gwen hoped it wouldn't come to that, seeing as the children would struggle and feel bad about their actions. She really did hope that she'd judged them correctly, that they were in fact troubled but peaceful kids. She really didn't want to kill them.

She changed the bandages again, and watched the sun go down. Liam and Daisy returned, having found whatever it was that they were looking for, and somewhere during the night Connor came up to bring them some food. They had moved their bedding into another room, as they were not comfortable enough to trust Gwen with their unconscious form. She hadn't tried to convince them otherwise, knowing that whatever she said would sound hollow in their ears.

She made sure Daryl kept hydrated, and cleaned his wounds when the children took too long, but it wasn't until she had attempted to feed him that he stirred. He whipped his head to the side, dodging the spoon of broth and groaned loudly. Lids remained glued shut over his eyes, both by bruising and concussion but that little hint of life was all Gwen needed to burst into laughter.


	21. Chapter 21

Life after the dead  
Chapter 21

Daryl had felt like this before, his body heavy and broken, weighing him down. The room smelled of metal, his skin tingled like he were lain on daggers instead of a mattress. He tried to move his fingers, and grunted in relief when he could manage to twitch two of them. Wherever he was, he was safe. He was out of the wind and the softness beneath his back would suggest that he was indoors and in a bedroom of sorts. It wasn't Gwens, he knew that much. It smelled different and his head was resting on a pile of clothes instead of the frilly pillows she had at the head of her bed. He tried to open his eyes, but as soon as he rolled his head he heard a gasp above him. Gwen.

She started laughing, cackling more like, as if she were a fucking hyena and clawing at his shirt in what he assumed was joy. Her hands were cold, soft and he could feel her breath against his shoulder. Though his skin was dulled by bruise and pain, he was too aware of her touch. Her twiddling digits made his heart pound and his lungs strain against his chest. He pried apart his lips, and tried to tell her off, but he couldn't quite manage it. Not able to move his mouth for more than a few syllables at a time he groaned. "G'eh offa me" he strained, looking her over with his left eye between his lashes and swollen socket.

Her face was flushed and wrinkled with her smile. "I totally thought you'd kicked the bucket" Gwen carelessly sprung, shoving him a little. Daryl looked her over, wanting to knot his brow but refrained from doing so as it head had started to pound. "Thanks" he groaned. He really was glad that she was alright, but some concern for his well being would not go amiss. Daryl tested his body, twitching muscles and attempting to lift limbs to see how badly he had gotten hurt. He sighed in anger as his body rejected him and remained still for most of his attempts. His limbs screamed in agony over what had been done to them, but at least he could feel them. It was kind of surprising that the worst had not yet happened to him. He had taken a few bad hits to his back, the only thing that could make this living hell worse was paralysation and thankfully that remained at bay. Instead he just bore unimaginable pain instead and a girl that insisted on prodding his injured arm.

Her prodding and instant banter was getting on his nerves already. She was springing some tale of having found shelter with some kids and how much he had bled and how badly the bandages had smelled when she changed them. Her voice thundered through his eardrums and he wanted to scream at her to shut up, but he knew that if he so much as spoke louder than a whisper his head would shattered into a million pieces. He let out a moan as he swung up his arm, whacking her against the side of her head. He couldn't really tell how much strength he had put behind it, but it couldn't have hurt.

"R'ck, Carl, M'chonne" he muttered slowly, his tongue wagging about his mouth to form the proper letters, albeit unsuccessfully. Gwen stopped her ranting and shifted, sucking her teeth a little. "Alive last time I saw em"

Daryl gruffed, pleased with what she had told him. Even though he was beaten to shits, he was glad it all paid off. It was pure luck that the hunters hadn't spotted them, and even more lucky that all of them were that occupied with him. Though he would've liked a minimal amount of bruises to show for it. He tuned back in to Gwen's ramblings. "Really though, second time I saved your ass. Gotta be more careful dude, third time's usually the charm." she mumbled, gesturing wildly with her hands. Daryl scoffed at the thought. "L' make it a weekly thin'" he heaved jokingly, causing her face to split into a smile.

He hadn't thought that he'd be seeing her again, let alone that she would save him. He had wanted to go back to her, for her to be a part of his family. She should never be alone again. Gwen had calmed down, her excitement soothed to a simmer. Now, she just sat beside him, grinning widely and watching him. No doubt euphoric about his return. Daryl knew that she cared for him, like she had for the girl and for her sister. She was the type to instantly get attached to people. His eyes lowered to slits at the thought.

_She got attached to anyone..._

His mouth dried, and he had begun to sweat a little though he wrote that down to his fever. No doubt he had several infections from the fight. He twitched his muscles and found them bound. This was the second time now that she was his nurse, it made him feel a little uncomfortable.

"Where" he muttered, trying to focus himself again on Gwen who had taken to babbling. She squinted at him before eyeing the door. "found these kids, they took us in" she answered and went on to describe how they had gotten there. Just as she started to describe the kids, one of them entered. Gwen identified him as Liam.

"He's awake" the boy pointed out, as if she hadn't noticed already. Gwen nodded "Yes he is, isn't that great?" she asked, to which the boy stared at her blankly. "Why?" he asked stupidly. Did this tree of a man even possess half a brain? Gwen didn't share Daryl's confusion however and went to interact with the boy as if nothing was wrong whatsoever. She must have had practise while he was out.

"We'll be able to take you home with us soon" she finally concluded, to which the boy brightened. Daryl grunted. Gwen had had no clue how to interact with that little girl, but this boy-man she knew exactly how to play and talk to. She was absolutely ignorant to any social graces but right now she was in her element. She knew how to talk to the ones with broken minds. He made a mental note to ask her about it later and continued to watch their discourse.

"We'll be safer then" the boy said, to which Gwen nodded. "We'll make a group of six" she said pleased, which struck Daryl. There was the little girl and her sister, the both of them and the lingers from his family, Rick, Carl and Michonne. Why was she leaving them out? He had figured that she'd take in every damn stray they'd come across but why wasn't she telling them that there would be more of them?

He attempted to rise, to correct her but stopped as he felt her hand snake between his fingers and squeezing. He knew he had to keep quiet. He groaned and lowered himself again, watching the back of Gwen's head as if her matted messy hair would give him the answers he wanted. The boy too had noted that she had taken his hand and he smiled. "Married" he stated, a simple reaction though entirely wrong. Daryl felt compelled to draw back his hand, but his arm wouldn't comply. Gwen however took to rectifying his mistake.

"No, you can also hold someone's hand when you like them" she said, shaking her head. The boy seemed to understand and nodded excessively as if she had just offered him some incredibly knowledge. Daryl drew in a breath, his eyes glued to Gwen as she spoke. He wasn't about to admit that such a simple thing as her saying she liked him was enough to make his chest tingle. Her words tugged at his lips to make him smile, but he wasn't about to give way to pansy ass Highschool crush like fluttery.

Gwen smiled at the boy and tilted her head slightly. "You okay, Liam?" The boy shook his head sideways in an exaggerated manner and pouted much like a child. "I'm not allowed to go look for things" he said slowly, clearly upset. Gwen's face contorted slightly and she shifted, mimicking his annoyance. "Cuz of the ghouls huh?"

"Yeah. I'm no good with them" Liam practised, as if he were repeating something the other children had told him. Gwen cracked a smile, whipping her head back and punching him gently against the shoulder. "You stick by me, Liam. I'll look out for you until you are" she quipped. Daryl watched as the boy's expression changed. He couldn't tell what the boy was thinking or what his response was, but he didn't like it, so he chose to thicken the honey.

"Hmhm, she saved me too" Daryl muttered, finding his voice less strained. "Food, shelter, protection... she's got y covered. Super mom..." Daryl carried on. Gwen squeezed his hand, freezing up a little and opened her mouth to tempt the boy further, but a voice rang from downstairs and he was called away from them instantly.  
As the boy left the room, Gwen let out an enormous sigh and pulled at her roots. Her breathing came out short bursts, as if she was keeping herself from crying. Daryl looked her over once, surprised to see her show any kind of emotion this vividly, thinking and compelling his body to do something or say something that she wanted to hear. He wanted so desperately to know her, to have her figured out. He wanted to be exactly that what she needed when she was having a rough time, but he just couldn't.

Daryl drew in a breath, infuriated with himself. Slowly and gently Gwen let go of his hand, Daryl had squeezed it once, hoping to get a reaction from her, but it seemed to have the opposite effect, or maybe it didn't have an effect at all. Her other hand didn't find her hair like the one already settled there. Instead it pulled at her top near her collar. She drew in another breath and let it escape through her nose, calming herself. "Gwen..." he mumbled, his hand reaching for her, but only managing to touch her side with the tips of his fingers.

She didn't react to him, making no indication that she had even heard him. He repeated himself again a little louder to make sure she did this time and just held his hand at her side, straining his arm. Instead her other hand joined her left and pressed it against her chest, and to his surprise she began to sing. Sing may have been a big word to describe the noise she was producing as it was more a humming with some torn words here and there.

"Every lil' thin sgonna be aight.." she muttered, tired and salted. Repeating the same line over and over she sang, like some mantra or messed up therapy trick. Whatever she was doing, Daryl trusted that she needed it. She had been alone for most of her life, she would know how to take care of herself. He recognised the song and so he scraped his throat and tried to hum along with her. His voice failed now and again, so his additions were only short and usually off cue, but it was all that he could manage. She'd never pressured him about his past, so he wasn't about to dog her for hers. She wasn't ready to tell him, whatever it was.


	22. Chapter 22

Life after the dead  
Chapter 22

She had stopped singing when the sun went down, her voice hoarse to the point where it was nearly gone. Daryl finally understood why she had that little CD-player on her bedside table; it was her way of coping. She blocked out everything around her and escaped into her own little world, and now that she was without her little gadget, she provided the noise herself. Music and songs were rhythmical and predictable, creating a little bubble expunging the chaos around her, at least for a little while.

There had been batteries scattered all around, their packets ripped open frantically. Daryl swallowed the lump hat had started to form in his throat as he remembered. He wondered what could have triggered her so, that made her desperate enough to play music, to take such a risk. He knew that the nights were worst for her, especially the ones without a moon. She had scattered candles all around to keep the darkness at bay, but light does nothing to prevent silence. This girl had been all on her own for months, if not longer. Daryl shivered. He knew what it was like to be alone, he had spent most of his life by his lonesome, but this was different. To have no one while facing down walkers every day and not knowing whether or not you're the last one left?

She had let go of her top, leaving it extremely wrinkled to the point where Daryl thought it might stay that way. Peeking from under her top he spotted some scar tissue, three slim but thick lines neatly beside one another, too neat to be an animal's doing. Her eyes had fixated on the door, at one point the children could be heard in the hallway but they didn't come to see them, or bring them food. Daryl didn't really care either way, he was in too much pain to know if he was hungry and he was far too busy focussing on Gwen to really care about anything else. But Gwen was staring down that door as if at any given moment a horde of undead might break through and rip them apart.

Night was falling slowly, dragging out and only leaving a few stray rays of sunlight on the road and cars below. A weak trickle of light still teased the window of their room. He wondered if she would change, snap out of whatever this was when darkness fell. They didn't have any candles here. How had she coped the previous nights? He couldn't remember it, or maybe he hadn't been awake at all. Strength was slowly creeping back into his muscles, but it was taking too damn long.

"Gwen" he said, gruffing her name, his voice just as strained as hers. He hadn't been able to hum with her for hours now, but she hadn't really noticed. He wondered if she had actually known that he was there. She'd sometimes get this look in her eyes, stare off into the distance, like she wasn't really there anymore. Like she'd just forgotten everything. When he called her name, she turned however. Her shoulders relaxed and as she looked at him. Her eyes were a little red but as far as he could tell, she hadn't cried. "You aigh?"

She looked at herself for a moment, her hand once again reaching for that same spot on her chest, her finger tracing the scars he had seen earlier, before she nodded. Daryl's hand lifted itself from the ground, without him ever giving the order, and traced her arm. Gently and carefully his finger traced over her skin, trying to conveigh some sympathy. She looked down at his hand, and quickly pushed it aside.

He would have felt hurt or at least stung, but not more than half a second later she moved. She dragged her hips over the floor, clothes and make shift bedding, and lowered herself next to him. She paused, turned and looked at him for a moment before touching him. "Is it okay?" she grunted with her now overly low and masculine voice. Daryl pulled up his arms awkwardly, shifting away from her a little, not quite knowing what to do with himself. His eyes darted over her, trying to think and reason, telling himself to not be so damn scared.

"Oh" she breathed, her face falling in disappointment as she moved to create some distance between him. Before he knew what he was doing he had piped up. "Is fine" he muttered, moving his arms again to reposition himself. Gwen smiled at him briefly before taking him up on his offer. She shifted and pressed against him, laying on her side beside him, resting one of her arms and her head on his chest slowly. She was laying on some bruises but he didn't really care, his pain had made way for a fluttering feeling in his chest.

Not quite knowing what to do with himself, he awkwardly moved his arms about, wondering where he should leave them. Hesitantly his right moved over and slightly touched her back, as if to secure her. He grunted and puffed, trying to act as natural as possible, hoping to not give any indication that he was losing his shit. His chest warmed up and his breathing shallowed as she moved some of her muscles, making herself more comfortable.

"Your heart is beating really fast" Gwen muttered. Daryl drew in a breath, grateful she was not looking at him, as his cheeks coloured a little. "Shut up" he growled, positioning his arm better, trying to avoid the massive tangle of hair, holding her a little. Her fingers curled in his shirt a slightly and a light and content sigh filled the room.

Gwen wasn't unlike Judith now. Little asskicker would sometimes burst into tears and cry for hours on end, but when she finally stopped and calmed down she would be the sweetest and quietest little thing. She'd be content and simply sleep in the chest of whoever was holding her. Daryl himself had only had that pleasure a few times, but it was enough. It was one of the memories that made the world a little less rotten.

When he held her, he had made that little baby a promise. He promised her that he let anything happen to her. Then he was so very sure that he was capable and able enough to keep her safe. How hard could it be to protect a baby? But even her own father hadn't managed it. It simply wasn't up to him to save her. He drew in a breath as he heard her cry echo between his ears.

He should stop making promises he couldn't keep.

"We'll find more of them" Gwen mumbled almost sweetly against him. Daryl raised his brow, his lip pulling a little in annoyance. The girl had the annoying tendency to hit the nail right on the head. To know what he was thinking when he hadn't even said a word. Hell, she wasn't even looking his way. "Your people..." she clarified, moving her head a little as if she were a cat.

His chest stung a little. She had been in a state of shock for hours, and with the flick of a switch she was okay again and was comforting him instead. Maybe she needed this little interaction, this hug or touch or whatever it was. Maybe she needed the comfort but he couldn't help but feel that she was doing this for his sake, so that he would feel less helpless. In her mind he was already cursing her stupidity but he couldn't help but feel a little lighter after that deducing she cared for him.

He gruffed, moving his chest a little to move her off a bruise. "Did you guys have a code?" she asked, as if she was asking the password to some secret club. Daryl rolled his eyes, his thumb finding his lips. "Naw, nothin like that" he muttered, taking the nail between his teeth.

"We'd ask people three questions, after that if we'd liked what we heard, they'd join" he explained, which made her chuckle a little. She was interested, he could tell. "One, how many walkers have you killed?" he asked, practised to the point where it sounded almost dull coming from his lips. "759 ghouls" she answered dryly and without even a hint of ego. He had expected her to be proud of her achievement, but that didn't seem to be the case. "Not bad" Daryl answered, hoping to sound less impressed than he actually was.

"Second, how many humans have you killed?" Daryl rang, to which she responded the exact same way, dryly and almost bored. "31 humans" she threw, which shocked him. He had killed his share of people since the world had ended, but not as many as that. Especially because she hadn't encountered any people since her escaped prison. She had said so.

Any _decent_ people...

Daryl swallowed the lump forming in his throat, and asked the next question, part of him not wanting to know the answer. "Why?" Sure she had violent tendencies, he knew that much. The way she handled walkers and her merciless eyes when she rescued him, they weren't easy to forget. Heck she'd circumcised a man bible style and nailed his bits to his head! She could be harsh and cold but just couldn't picture her slashing down into people that were still alive, still breathing. Heck she had tried to save everyone she came across for gods sake. How did she end up killing that many people? And why was she so damn cool about it? Were these the people she had killed to escape her prison?

"Some deserved mercy from the virus, others deserved to get eaten by the dead" she said calmly. He couldn't disagree with her. With the group he had encountered many people that deserved a fate way worse than death, and some simply earned an end to their suffering. Hell he'd given many a hand in both. Still, hearing it out loud, plain as day like that was wrong. Someone important once said that you can't control the thoughts you have, but your reaction to them is what defines you. What makes you good or bad. He knew that Gwen wasn't bad people, but she wasn't good either. She walked the line, and he wasn't sure what to think of that.

The group had done some awful things in their time, killed people, left people they knew, and turned their backs on those they didn't. They weren't saints or angels, Hell he was pretty sure they were all bound for the fiery pits if anything, but they had done the hurt to protect each other, to keep safe their family of strays. What was she protecting?

She shifted a little, pushing down on a bruise, making him want to flinch and grit his teeth. "This is nice" she announced, dragging Daryl back to the situation at hand as opposed to his thoughts. The girl was pressed up against him, her limbs wrapped around him, her head resting on his chest. Daryl drew in a breath, a tingle spreading over his skin as he did. He knew that she was waiting for a reply or at least a reaction of some sort, but he just didn't know.

Ignoring the ranting in his head and the doubt in his heart, he decided to listen to his hand, which had been craving her touch from the moment he had woken up. Awkwardly and unsure, his hand travelled over her shoulder to the midsection of her back, pushing towards him slightly. Instantly she noticed him, her eyes finding their corners, her lips curling a little. Her fingers dug into his shirt a bit more, and she buried her face deeper into his chest, making herself comfortable.

"You okay?" she mumbled softly, making sure. His hand twitched and pressed her a little closer to him, if that was even possible and grunted some conformation.


	23. Chapter 23

Life after the dead  
Chapter 23

"How many of them do ya think are in there?" Rick murmured, looking down into the pit of charcoaled bones and roasted flesh. "Hard to tell, lotta bones in there, dozens? A hundred?" Michonne rang, answering the man who turned to her with a look. Even though he trusted Daryl with his life, the girl he mentioned had sounded too good to be true, but looking a the damage that was mountained up in front of him he was more inclined to belief him. If they had killed so many of them with just the two of them, she must have a pretty good set up.

"Some of them are fresh though" Carl squeaked, his voice strained with his hour of silence before. He cleared his throat and pointed to two 'fresh' walker corpses, drawing the eyes of his father, who nodded. "We must be close" he deduced, heaving a little under the strain of the run they had to get to this point.

"Sit down a minute" Michonne then said, her expression forceful but tender towards him. She was tired, as they all were, but she still kept an eye out for him and made sure he didn't strain himself too much. He might have smiled at her concern, was he not already bursting with a different emotion. His thoughts dwelled back to Daryl as he lowered himself into the grass. Daryl was capable, strong, quick on his feet with even faster reflexes, but he couldn't help but think that all those men would be able to overtake him. He had given Rick, his boy and Michonne a fighting chance, an opening to escape and he was eternally grateful too him. Daryl knew the odds he'd be up against and he made that call, but still Rick had to fight every muscle in his body to not go running back in search of him.

Daryl was his friend, his brother. He wasn't sure if he could bear another loss like that, not after he found them again. They had lost too much already. Michonne's hand found his shoulder. She had watched his expression change and she knew exactly what he was going through, what he was thinking of. He tilted his head in a slow and tired manner to look at her, to offer some gratitude but as he moved he lingered on his son who stood a few meters from him.

"Carl?" he called softly, to which the boy jerked a little, but he didn't turn to look at his dad. He just kind of stared ahead. "Look" he muttered.

At the far edge of the clearing a figure approached. A woman with dark hair and tanned skin, hauling a corpse on her back. Rick rose with his weapon already in hand, but Michonne took his arm and stopped him, shaking her head. He assumed it was their host, and so he shouted at her, alerting her to their presence. "Hey!"

Gwen whipped up her head, her eyes instantly widening at the sight of the small group. She unfolded her arms and send the corpse she had been carrying crashing to the ground. Her boots dug into the ground and she launched herself towards them with impressive bounds, but as she got closer her face started to sour and she began to shout. "Where's Daryl?!" She near screamed as she came upon them. Rick piped up to explain himself but Michonne had already beaten him to it. Within the fraction of a moment she had pointed her in the right direction and explained the numbers she'd be facing.

Rick watched as she registered the information, her eyes sharp, her brow angry and her lips parting to bare her teeth. Like an animal she was looking at them as she heard their story in short telegram styled sentences. As soon as Michonne finished, her features relaxed and she whipped around arm and pointed it towards the far side of the woods. "Watch the traps, blow the whistle. Nomusa will take you in" she bit, already turning to run down the path towards Daryl.

Rick had wanted to stop her, ask her questions, get some information but she was already gone. With thundering steps she ran from them, leaving the three of them standing dumbfounded besides the pit. "Who was that?" Carl chimed, a bit struck by the lightning fast discourse. Rick couldn't answer him, simply because he didn't know. So he just jerked his head a little as was his habit, and nudged him in the direction she pointed. He didn't know if the girl could bring Daryl back, but he felt a little easier knowing she went after him. She seemed capable, the scars on her face testified to at least a few won scraps and in the very least keen on getting him back.

The band of three slumped back into their earlier rhythm and breached the treeline. In silence they came upon the signs. To nearly every tree some sort of warning was pasted: exclamation marks spray-painted on bark, signposts rammed into the soil with detailed descriptions of the layout ahead of them, Rick eyed Michonne, who as she had had an earlier encounter with the girl, and had been made the expert on the situation. She shot him an understanding look and took point, while she was actually not at all more prepared than the two men.

Arrows pointed towards a certain direction and as they followed them, they came upon a tree. Michonne took to reading the paper, stapled to the tree. "Mentions that whistle again" she said shortly, making a face at the other two. "Won't that attract nearby walkers though?" Carl commented quickly, his gaze permanently glued over his shoulder since they had encountered the few stranglers stuck in the girl's traps. "Daryl trusts her, so we should do as the girl says."

He dug his fingers into the bark and retrieved a plain referee's whistle. Michonne turned and shot both of them a look, agreeing with the plan but making sure that they were both ready to run if push came to shove. Rick wettened his chapped and broken lips, took in a breath and sent a sharp slice through the woods. He drew it out for three seconds and stopped, turning his head and lowering himself to prepare for what was coming. Panic began to set in a the seconds passed by and no answer came. "Try it again?" Carl offered, eyeing his father with big eyes, but he turned to Michonne instead. She shrugged, not knowing.

Then in their second minute, a tall and suspiciously clean woman appeared, holding a child to her hip, and a shotgun in her other. "Did Guwen send yu?" she asked, heavy in a foreign accent and loaded with threat. Rick squinted, turning his lead a little to look at her better. Sure she seemed threatening but there was no way that she could shoot that shotgun with only one girl squirmed a little in her arms, nervous at the sight of new faces, and hid in the woman's armpit. The sight of the small girl made Rick's stomach twist and churn. His eye found Carl's, and he seemed to feel it too. His son's eyes were spread wide and he had sucked in his lips, to keep his expression in check.

"Did she send yu?!" the woman barked, more threatening this time. Rick snapped out of his memories and answered. "Yea, she told us to come here" he held up his hand, hoping to calm the woman who seemed set on blowing their brains out. He knew that they had no real way of proving that they were sent by the girl, and if the situation was reversed, Rick may have already fired by now.

The woman looked them over a few times, scanning for bites most likely, and ended up looking Rick square in the face. "Yu hurt Kyra and I will erase yu" she said, calm as could be as she jerked her shotgun, motioning for them to move. "De Crawlers do not com past de gates, yu will wait outside de house" Nomusa instructed as they walked, at all times keeping a few meters between Kyra and the strangers. "I will bring yu water and food, and yu will wait" she continued.

Rick nodded, at this point willing to go along with anything she said. The promise of food and a safe place out of walker reach was all he could ask for for Carl, Michonne and himself, and all he really needed. They'd sleep outside if they'd have to, building their own shelter; he didn't care. But he still had to know her intentions.

The fact that she was carrying a child that young made him instantly want to trust her, but he knew better. Even after Daryl clearing the girl, and this woman and him having spent time at this place, he was on edge. The tiniest of hairs on his body stood at the ready, his muscles already twitching to dive to the side and rip Carl with him to dodge gunfire. His eyes shooting over the scenery and the woman for any sign of danger, any twitch, any move that told him that she might be lying.

"Wait for what?" he dared to ask, making the woman pause momentarily.

"Until night. Yu sleep inside den, in the livin room. Yu com upstairs and I blow your brains out."

As they slid through the gates, and the woman closed it behind them, the woman sped into the house, not once looking behind her, or offering any other information. Rick took to observing his surroundings. The house was big enough to house a small army, the grounds were spacious and as far as he could see the security of the place wasn't too bad. The fences were a bit shabby, but with the surrounding trees they could surely construct something more sturdy. The traps were effective seeing as a few strangers were already caught in the spikes and the house seemed mostly undamaged, so it must have been untouched by hordes. Heck it still had all it's windows, boarded up as they may be. They must have known what they were doing.

Rick turned to get a read on Carl and Michonne, who had remained quiet thus far. Michonne seemed to be breathing a easier now that she herself was looking around. Her hand was tracing over one of the traps, finding the wood rough to her fingers. She squinted and withdrew it a moment later, presumably having snagged the skin on the unpolished treework.

"It seems safe..." Carl muttered, snapping out of the combat readiness he had been lingering in since their run from the hunters. Michonne nodded in agreement "better than we've had in a long time"

A few moments later the woman once again erupted from the house, this time without the child on her hip. She held a tray out in front of her with an assortment of cans and three bottles of water. She set them down gracefully onto the steps leading to the house, her fingers parted and fine as she drew back her hands. Rick noticed then that they were delicate much like she was herself. These days people couldn't be described as clean anymore, as no amount of soap could ever scrub off the filth and tar they encountered each day, it burrowed into your skin, ingraining itself into the pores and made a home for itself, leaving a permanent mark much like everything in the world did these days. But she seemed as if she could rub the dirt off her skin with a single brush of her finger.

"I will prepare a place to sleep. Eat now."

The tall woman seemed calmer now, as if she had remembered the rushing girl's instructions; that she was to take care of them. They ate quickly, not knowing whether this was the going to be the only food they'd get in a long time. Rick had hesitated, and wondered if the food might have been poisoned, but as everything was still sealed in cans, he disregarded that fear almost immediately. Besides there was little to be gained, they had nothing to steal and their bodies had been weakened by hunger and exertion. The woman stood outside the door, waiting for them to finish, staring at them with beautiful yet piercing eyes.

Then the door behind her opened and picked the thin scab of his bleeding heart. The little girl, Kyra had pushed it opened and kept herself hidden behind the woodwork as she reached for the woman's hand. She in turn whipped about with violence until she identified her, as if she wasn't really used to the child being there. Her features quickly softened however, and she placed a comforting hand on the child. Rick swallowed down a lump watching them, envy plucking at his heartstrings. How he wished that he too could hold his daughter, how he wished to have been there to offer her a calming hand, to quiet her cries. Her little face ghosted over his mind as he looked at Kyra. Judith would never reach her age, she didn't get to look up at her father expectantly, she didn't get to tug at his hands for a hug. She got nothing but rotten teeth and pain.

He quickly drew in a breath as his eyes threatened to betray his thoughts to the others. A dull pain hid behind them, strengthening the thundering drums and wailing that had followed him since he laid eyes on her empty and blood smeared travel cot. He ran his hand over his brow, finding his once fine lines transformed in deep groves.

"My name is Nomusa" The woman then bit, impatient and eager for information. "Rick Grimes" he announced himself, his voice faltering a little, before pointing to his son and naming him too, leaving Michonne to do so herself. She did with a nod of her head, keeping her eyes fixated on Rick instead, awaiting a sign or tell for them to move. 


	24. Chapter 24

Life after the dead  
Chapter 24

It had been a chequered night, one that Gwen had spent in his arms. She knew very well that physical contact make him uncomfortable, at least the tender kind did but after a few stray minutes he seemed to relax. His breaths became less shallow and soon enough, he even dozed off into a light sleep. Gwen had clutched herself to Daryl as closely as she could when the midst of night fell, claiming all the remaining light from their room.

She had considered calling out to the children, and asking them for a light, but she was too scared, too petrified to move. Her muscles had frozen in place and her eyes had darted over every inch of the room at least trice now, desperately trying to adjust her sight. Even though Gwen knew that she was night blind, her eyes seemed to not have caught up with that fact yet, or they were simply in denial.

She had not seen the children in a while, they hadn't even surfaced to bring them some food. Which wasn't too odd in itself as they too must be running low on supplies. She had only spotted a few stray cans when she first entered, though the kids had never skimped out on sharing. She turned her head, trying to listen to the breathing of the old house, trying to detect a trace of the children. She knew that they had stayed in another room, and she wasn't exactly sure where that was, as she hadn't left this one for more than a minute to relieve herself, but she had heard them before. Walking about, talking to each other, the odd dropped object here and there, which she assumed was caused by Penny as she'd hear the girl profusely apologising after.

Had all of them gone out?

It didn't make sense, they had always had two in the house, two on a run, that was their system. They'd never send out Penny and simply rotated the other three in a seemingly fair rotation, though Liam was usually coupled with Connor for brotherly reasons and the fact that Daisy hated his guts. Then again, Daisy seemed to hate everyone's guts with a passion. Gwen hadn't seen that much blind hatred and disdain since she had left the prison. She liked it, at least the girl was honest about herself and what she was thinking.

After a few minutes went by, and the house remained without a sound, Gwen screamed at her muscles to move, twitching them and readying them. She forced the blood through, heating them and preparing them for the battle of facing the demons surrounding her. Her eyes darted to where she presumed the door was and gave the command.

She didn't move.

Without a sound she hissed at herself and cursed her unresponsive body. She freed her left leg, sliding it slowly from in between Daryl's to her left, shivering as she went. Moans outside erupted, ringing pleasantly to her ears. The silence of her room was pierced by the promise of danger and she found her muscles pulsating away their dust. Blindly she moved to the window, her hand tracing the wall as she did, the only source of a sliver of light, and moved the towel that was draped over it. Her pupils rejoiced in the sight of a moonlit street even though it was littered with the dead.

Gwen recognised one of the walkers, a woman with a floral pink dress as one that had been at the head of the flock she had lead. They were the same damn ghouls. She pressed her ear to the wall and continued to watch the damned trot by, sluggish and groaning. Watching them move had always been kind of addictive to her, it wasn't unlike watching people pass in the street. It was something she'd do often, go out for a cup of coffee, find a bench and just watch people walk by. She'd try and figure people out from the little clues she'd find in the way they held themselves, make up stories of how their life would be, what would have led them to that point. A similar game could be played now, only the clues she could find, and the stories she could make up all ended with the same thing. How did they die?

"I'm sorry"

The calm of the heard was tugging at her, and she was now in full control of her body again, though she knew that the moment she turned back to the darkened room that her tissue would freeze again, so she lingered in front of the window and watched them pass. Her eyes darted over a group of moaning ghouls, dressed as construction workers, their orange jackets reflecting in the light. "Must've been bit together.." she muttered, and watched them pass a window. Then however, they paused, or at least two of them did. They turned towards the house and Gwen tensed up. She couldn't see inside the house, hell she could hardly see anything, but something had drawn those creatures' attention as they were now clawing at the frames.

"Shit!" Gwen hissed a little louder than her previous volume, alarming Daryl, who sprung to life. He groaned and breathed through his teeth as he remembered and felt his injuries. "T'is it?" he bit angrily as he shifted to collect himself. Gwen didn't turn to look at him, knowing she couldn't see him either way. "I think the kids are stuck out there" she explained coldly. He drew in a breath, probably tuning himself in to the moans. He cursed under his breath and reached for his knife.

She turned then, and faced the darkness of the room again. Crouching over the floor she felt her way to her weapons and blindly armed herself. Her metal connected with the leather and satisfying clicks were heard before she rose, having been successful. "You're not fit to move. I'll be back" she bit, her voice betraying her apprehension a little. His hand then grabbed her arm and he rose to scold her.

"Are you insane?! You aint goin out there by yerself!" Daryl threw, a little too loud than the situation called for. Gwen drew back her arm and placed her hand on his chest tenderly. "I'm coming with you" Daryl declared, his voice soft, worried and without his usual gruff. She felt him over, her hand finding his brow dripping with sweat, his body shifting from side to side. His stance was wonky at best. There was no way Daryl would make it in a fight, let alone against that many. Her hand found a wet patch on his side.

Fresh blood.

Gwen then took in a breath and let her hand slide over his chest before creeping back up to his shoulder. He had shifted in her movement but she had a sure enough grip on him. With scarily accurate precision she brought about her other hand and dug her fist into his gut, ripping his stitches, folding him in half. He let out a pained gasp and growl and she quickly moved.

"Stop!" he managed to utter between his deep intakes of breath and groaning pain. He clawed to move himself but his body stopped him. Gwen stopped in the doorway for a moment and reassured him that she would be back soon.

Her feet dug into the woodwork with care. She had memorised the layout of the house, or at least she knew how many steps it had was til the door, having counted them as they made their way upstairs. She knew full well that she might have to get out of there in the dark, and her vision was not to be trusted, so she relied on her other senses and her wit. Her heart was pounding but her instincts had taken over now, people were in danger. As quietly as she could she came upon the front door and gently opened the latch. A walker stood not three meters from her, which turned at the sound. Gwen looked down at her shirt, now hit by moonlight. It was still caked with blood but most of that was Daryl's which made her an even more appetising meal.

The walker spotted her and came towards her with surprising silence. It wasn't until Gwen had plunged her knife into it's sopping skull that she noticed the crescent moon on its throats. It's vocal cords had been carved out with the utmost precision. "Lucky break" she mumbled to herself as she dug her hands into the wound and pulled out veins and rot, smearing it all over her jeans and shirt, hopefully coating Daryl's layer. She reached down and stripped the walker of it's chequered button up and quickly slid it over her top. It smelled even worse than the rot and even the walker, but she'd have to bare that for now.

Gwen bit down onto her lip, silencing herself as she started her trek through the crowd of the dead. The main body had passed beyond her now, but she knew that the slightest sound would not only set off the ghouls near her, but draw back the crowd as well. As slow as her heart would allow she joined into the migrating company. Her eyes trailed to the house with the construction ghouls and her heart fell as she watched the window shatter under their pressure. Moaning erupted around her as they all turned, drawn by the noise. The shattering had rung like a dinner bell and all the dead were rejoicing, their pace quickened and they crawled inside one by one.

She tried to work her way through the crowd as best she could but it was taking too long. She hoped that if the kids were in the house that they had half a brain and closed every door they could, but knowing that Liam was with them, she very much doubted it. She quickened her pace, breaking her walker stride and drawing attention to herself. She dodged a ghoul claw on her right and slid past an other, knowing that if she were to start killing them they would over take her within moments. There was no place to manoeuvre and she certainly did not have enough juice in her to take them all on face to face. She was a skilled fighter sure but she could still be overtaken.

Her fulcrum faltered as a shot rang from inside the house. Her mind went into overdrive to retrieve her memories, and noted that only one of the children handled a gun. Daisy. She had to think of something and she had to do it now!

She knew she may well have signed her own death warrant as she whipped about her hand and rammed her knife into a cracking ghoul skull, drawing the pack around her towards her as opposed to the loud pang that was heard not a few seconds ago. She ripped open it's face and brought about her leg to kick another, unceasing her momentum by yanking out the knife and slicing another dead's throat. She couldn't help but feel exhilarated at the feeling of bringing down the dead, killing them again and knowing they'd stay that way. Her pupil's dilated as their blood splattered onto her face and she drew in a breath, forcing her heart to pump faster.

By now she was hacking like a woman possessed, bringing down the dead much faster than she had initially thought and within moments she had carved out a hole in their numbers. Without a second thought she took the opportunity and headed for the breach. Her hand was slippery with blood now and as she moved to wipe it clean on her trousers she found them even more covered in grime. She flicked off as much of the blood as she could before once again moving her knife to bring down a ghoul inside. She whipped about her head, finding a cabinet to her right and moved to block the entrance, crushing two rippers on their way in.

The house had a much similar lay out to the one they had stayed in the nights previous and instantly she headed for the parallel room where she had left Daryl, as a group of walkers was trying to force the door. Slowly losing her adrenaline in this moment of inactivity, she drew in a breath trying to steady herself and her heart, knowing full well that if she kept going at this rate that she would be going feral and she would make mistakes. By now the children would have been fighting of the dead and most likely be covered in their innards and blood, she would not be able to distinguish them in a single glance. She might end up killing a child in her rage.

She drew in another breath and took her bow from her back, neatly aligning an arrow and releasing it into a rotten eye socket. "I'm clearing the hallway!" she screamed before continuing to dispatch the dead. Killing walkers had always been an easy task for her, or at least, after a few weeks of practise that is, but in close quarters she was on edge nonetheless. It didn't take a whole lot for her to be taken down by them, and there was nowhere to run now.

The walkers fell to the ground and as the door opened, her hand found her hair and calmed with her with a tug. The children sat limply against the far wall, Daisy moved towards them, having cleared the blockade they had put up to keep the dead at bay. It seemed that their actions had been too late however, as Connor sat huddled over, clutching a bloody rag to his shoulder. Penny answered Gwen's eyes with a knowing look, a more mature one than she had seen thus far. The older brother sat beside him, whimpering, clearly having the situation explained to him, or at least to some extent.

Gwen let out a tired sigh and shuffled towards them, her legs clearly lagging behind her. She really didn't want them to die. She searched for Daisy's eyes but couldn't find them, as the girl had taken to guarding the door, with no emotion to be read from her posture.

"Show me"

Connor looked up at her, clearing the blockage in his nose. "Can't even cut it off" he said woefully, moving his hand to unveil a most terrible wound. A ghoul had torn out his flesh, leaving a few torn veins to hang limply from the bite, like loose cables. Gwen flashed a brief smile, conveighing her sympathy and knelt in front of the boy. Liam had started muttering gibberish about how he was sorry and that he would never do it again, as if he had broken a toy or lost a football. His little brother absently patted his head and told him that it was okay.

Liam had gotten Connor bit.

"Don't say that, kid has got to learn" Daisy said harshly, earning herself a row of frowns from through out the room. The blonde was harsh but very right. It wouldn't help the boy at all to remain in the dark. He had to be faster, stronger and a whole lot cleverer if he was to survive this new world. He needed to learn, but now was not the time.

But how was Liam responsible? Connor was in the house with Penny, and there should have been no reason for them to leave. Why had they moved to a different house? Were they trying to leave Gwen and Daryl, had the run crew gotten into trouble somehow? It didn't really matter now, the damage was done already.

"Liam, you're a nurse right?" Gwen threw, earning her a sad nod of his head. "Make your brother as comfortable as you can" she ordered, to which the young man moved like lightning. He was good with orders, like a soldier. She turned around and found Daisy fixated on the door as yet again the moaning rang louder on the other side. Nails found the woodwork and the girl became impatient. She found the small cleaver in her belt, and beckoned Penny to come over, handing her the gun.

Liam had torn a pair of scarves from a nearby drawer and patched his brother up as best he could, taking off his own shirt to use as a rag to wipe his brow. The fever had already started to set in, this bite was going fast. Gwen shook her hand and gestured at Liam, who seemed desperate for guidance. He clearly wasn't going to leave his brother, on a whim, but Gwen had worked on the boy earlier. He would listen now.

"Stick by Daisy and Penny, cover their asses, you keep them safe. Don't hesitate, don't miss, don't get bit." Gwen almost snarled at him, clearly pronouncing each vowel, so that he might repeat it to himself.

"We can't just leave him!" Penny yelled sharply.

"I'll wait with Connor" Gwen then murmured, drawing their eyes.

Penny turned to Daisy, who seemed to indicate some sort of agreement. Gwen gestured at Liam, who joined the two girls at the door, grouping together there. "Three maybe four,,," Daisy counted., "you should be fine" she reckoned and directed the others towards the window to the back of the house. It was still clear.

"Don't get killed."


	25. Chapter 25

Life after the dead  
Chapter 25

It wasn't long till he found her. The dead had passed now, the sun had lazily started to rise, and he had feared the worst. She was rash and stupid and it was only a matter of time till she finally got herself killed. The way she fought the walkers, head first and with such anger... Even the way she protected him, she had simply siphoned him away from the danger by ripping open his stitches, incapacitating him through pain. It was in insane. She was feral and reckless, but he had hoped she'd be alright.

It had taken him longer than he'd care to admit to get himself together. The pain had blinded him for a while and he may have even passed out at some point. He didn't really know. He managed to sneak by the few stragglers in the streets, having clutched a dirty pillowcase to his wound, and bound it with a scrap of sheet to keep it in place, stopping the bleed, and after that he simply followed the bodies. His movements were slow and unsteady but he got there in the end, finding nothing but slain dead inside, he squeezed through an opening that had already been forced by walkers in a way so graceless it left slabs of skin stuck to the wood. The hallway was still darkened by early day and a smell of rot and death entered his nostrils. Walkers lay splattered about and torn open. A broken window testified to the possible escape of the dead that survived Gwen. He checked the rooms finding one of them barred.

He pounded on it a few times, calling out to her, and it took her a few moments to reply. He heard a shifting inside and as the door opened he looked right into her tired eyes. He scanned the room, finding the husk of one of the children in the corner, his skin a sickly white with a knife wound in the side of his head, at an odd angle. It chilled his skin, making him break out into goosebumps. It was unnatural, seeing kids as walkers. Gwen nodded at him once, before hobbling her way back to the corner where she had sat before.

A scarf was tied around her thigh, tight and soaked with blood. He eyed it intently, catching her green orbs, edging her to explain herself, her state and her earlier actions. Lids covered her irises as she turned to the boy in the corner, mourning her having to take his unlife. She may have been tough but having to take care of someone you knew? That was rough. He still found their faces in his dreams sometimes, and other days they would come to him while he was still awake. He wanted to ask her if she was okay, but before that, he needed to know why her leg was bleeding.

She then smiled at him briefly, and he just knew. His legs wanted to give weigh, crashing him onto his ass, draining the energy from his muscles, but he froze them in place, waiting for her to say it.

"Got bit"

Nodding her head and scrunching up her face in an odd smile, she tried to lighten his heart, having the opposite effect. Daryl drew in a breath, pressing his lips together to keep him from making a sound he shifted his weight from his right to his left leg, and back again at least trice. He folded his arms and released the knot before pulling at his hair. His body was going into overdrive, and he had barely any control over his body left. It took every ounce he could muster to keep himself from screaming at her.

"Why?"

He didn't need to know how, because if she got bit, it had to have been a choice, or at least the result of a calculated risk. She had survived for too long to be caught off guard by a random walker. It just wouldn't happen! So why was she going to die?!

"Connor got bit, the kids wouldn't have gone without him. Besides...I couldn't let him turn on his own" she said matter of factly, as if that was the only choice she could have made and Daryl had no actual reason to be upset. At this point he was seething with anger. She just sat there, cool as is could be as blood dripped from her thigh and poison ran a course through her veins slowly turning her into an undead disgusting liability that he was going to have to put down!

"And you couldn't have stabbed his brain before he completely turned!" Daryl threw, not even asking a question. His hand found his ribs who had started to groan at the sudden rush of blood, and pressed firmly against it. From under his knotted brow he watched Gwen's features harden. Her lips parted and she started throwing bile his way.

"Suck my dick, Daryl! You wouldn't have killed that kid while he was still breathing either, so get bent!"

Daryl would have laughed at her choice of words had he not already been fuming with their content. He couldn't even say anything to her, his throat had closed up with anger and it took every fibre of his being not to shake her like a rag doll. He was just looking at her now. He could understand her need to be attacked by the child, so she would have no other choice but to kill him, but to let him get as far as to let him sink his teeth into her flesh?! How did he wind up near her thigh anyway? Was she doing? cradling his head, ruffling his hair?! The turn must have happened like lightning if she had no time to react.

Gwen's features softened again and a tired sigh escaped her throat. "Look, sorry. But could you do me a solid? I left my guns at home, so could you knife me? I know I'm like super hot and all, but even I can't pull off rotting flesh" she muttered, making comical facial expressions to add to her fading jokes, trying to make it easier on him. "I mean, you're gonna be fine right? Like rest a few days and then head up to the-"

Daryl snapped.

You can't just opt out! That kid dying is not more important that you staying alive! That's what we do now! We survive! You told me that we gave people time now, but there are still people that need us. That need you. You have a family now, you owe them to stay alive! He screamed at her in his head, his voice itching with gruff as he prepared the words. This self-sacrificial bullshit had to stop!

"You have family now" he managed to utter, his voice failing to continue his rant. Gwen hicked out a short burst of laughter, her hands clawing at her hair, pushing it back so she could look at him properly. "You can't just opt out whenever you want. People need you now" Daryl bit. By people he mainly meant himself. He couldn't bare to have another loss carved onto his heart, there simply wasn't any room left anymore. "You can't just die!"

"You don't have to die, to be dead" Gwen said sharply, her eyes piercing his with stunning accuracy, making his heart stop for a hot second.

Gwen softened then, regretting her words. "I always wanted to have a family" she mumbled, absently reaching for that mark on her chest. "I wasn't born into one, and I always thought I'd have my own. I tried to have my own" he nails traced one of the three marks, and it was only then that Daryl had started to understand. The cuts had been too strait and precise to be of actual combat. She had made them herself, a remembrance of loss.

Daryl walked over and sat down next to her, pulling up his legs to his chest and leaning on them, gesturing at her to continue. There wasn't any point to being angry with her, she wouldn't know how to deal with it and he knew from previous experience that it did not make him feel better in the slightest.

Gwen eyed her hands and rang her fingers as she told him the story behind the scars. After she left the orphanage she wanted to find a family of her own, but she just couldn't connect with anyone, and so she thought to start a family herself. To have a baby, a little person of her own to care for.

"Getting pregnant was the easy part, staying that way however..."

Daryl nodded and muttered a "yeah" under his breath just to let her know that he was still listening. After her first miscarriage she tried two more times but it never lasted more than a few weeks. It was funny in a way. Daryl thought back to his dream, where she had stood next to him and held her stomach proudly. It made that situation even more surreal, and it seemed like his subconscious dangled both their desires out in front of them.

She had gone to see a doctor at a free clinic and with a little persuasion he did a few tests on her. Her Uterus had some kind of growths in them, which caused her to reject any egg that attempted to settle in her womb. "Doc gave me a 5% chance" she said solemnly, her nail following the lines of her scars.

"Ye'd make a good mom" Daryl muttered, biting his nail.

Gwen started to glow a little, her lips parting to make way for a smile. "Nah, but I'd sure as heck try to be" she mumbled, leaning up against him a little, her hand finding the blood on her thigh. Daryl smiled a little, that was exactly what would make her a good mom. She'd try her best and protect her kid with everything she'd have.

He couldn't blame her for staying with the kid, and offering him some comfort as he passed away. He would have probably stayed as well. The mere concept of kids tugged at his heartstrings and made him a weaker man. If he had found Sophia after she had turned, he couldn't say for sure whether or not he would have killed her. He would have been incapacitated by shock and sure disbelief.

He eyed the boy in the corner of the room. He hadn't been Gwen's to save, but she had. Till his final breath, she had sat with him and made sure that he wasn't alone, like she had been. He himself had always said that if he were to get bit that he'd want someone to blow his brains out, because that seemed like the best option, but he knew better now. He'd rather sit with Gwen for a few more minutes before he was taken. It was selfish, knowing that he might hurt her after he'd turned, but he just wanted to be next to her, be with her. Just for a little bit longer.

He looked over to the girl next to him, knowing full well what was ahead of them. His callused and partially bandaged hand reached over and wiped her brow, checking her temperature. She had a slight fever, but nothing as raging as what would follow. Her blood would boil and burn her up and she would become delirious in her fever. She was still okay now.

Gwen offered him a tired smile and leaned into his hand, her hair releasing itself from her shoulder, gently tickling his skin. She closed her eyes and sighed tenderly. Daryl's chest closed up a little, due to injury or emotion he didn't know. He cleared his throat, prompting her to open her green eyes again, staring at him expectantly.

"You survived once right? What makes this time different?" he tried, causing her to knot her brow in question for a moment before she broke out a smile again, followed by a brief hyena laugh. She had survived the bite of a ghoul once, but that had been a fluke or a stroke of luck a least, it was doubtful to happen again.

"It sucks that I have to die, you've made me feel so alive, rabbitman" she said with a toothy smile, bringing around her fist and knocking him against his shoulder, before she stopped and looked at him in a way he had never seen before. There was something in her eyes that he could not explain. Maybe it was her mixture of emotions or maybe it was his, but he had never felt more bare and exposed in his life. She made some sort of nod with her head, which puzzled him, but he copied it nonetheless.

She brightened even further and before he knew what was happening her smile came towards him. Gently and slowly her hand found his stubbled jaw, soothing the busted nerve endings she found there, one of her fingers tracing his earlobe for a moment, spreading an unfamiliar warmth over his skin. Then he could feel her breath against his lips. Her eyes lingered in front of his at a slight angle, and while keeping those slivers of green fixated on him, her eyes coveighed such intensity that he hardly noticed her lips parting ever so slightly. He froze as they brushed up against, locked with his, and drew him into a soft kiss. The warmth of her mouth bled into his and slowly softened his callused tension.

She gently pulled at his lower lip, her thumb actively tracing his jaw. A sweet sound escaped her as she pulled back, finding Daryl unreceptive and stunned under her touch. Distancing herself slightly, Gwen took to observing him, looking at him, searching for a reaction. And as she studied him, her squinted green eyes darted over his face, before finally settling on her own feet, defeated by his expression. "You okay?" she asked then as worry stretched over her features.

The breath he was holding came out in short taps, brushing past his lips with a tingle, not unlike the one she had left there. He jutted his chin forward, soothing his lungs and guiding them to take in air again and normalise his breathing. His mind was raging with thoughts he couldn't even keep track of, but luckily for him, his body had taken over and taken charge of the situation. His now slick lips parted, and his cords danced a phrase.

"Daryl Dixon" he called, his pitch sounding surprisingly normal under the circumstances. He had hated the nickname she had given him, it kept reminding him of the hunters and how he felt back then, the loss that homed in his heart, and how stupid he had been. Gwen glinted at him and turned her head to the side, slightly confused by what he had answered her with, but she seemed to understand a moment later.

Daryl's eyes were fixated on her lips, and especially on the little glimmer that was now gracing her lower lip. They stretched and unveiled a smile before he spoke. "Daryl Dixon" she repeated, and as she rang her name, he was sure he had never heard anything more heart warming. He had never been very proud of his name, nor of his family, but she had said it as if it was something wholesome, and good.

"Gwen Twyler" she introduced herself. They had exchanged their full names, not that it really mattered now. There weren't enough people to have need for last names to keep them apart. Not anymore. But somehow, he felt better knowing it, as if she allowed him to know her. He wondered how she felt saying that, telling him, and if he would trigger the same feelings from her as he said her name. How would she feel?

How did she feel after that kiss? Why did she kiss him? As thanks? As comfort? Should he have kissed her back? He didn't know. He was stunned and unsure and simply overtaken as he came down and realised their situation. Daryl called out her name, but he couldn't manage the warmth that she had mustered, instead it was cold and scared and she could tell and offered him a brief smile. "It's okay Daryl."

He wanted to say something clever, redirect the attention and the care her way. God she was the one that was bit by a walker and still the focuss was on him! She was making sure he was alright and he was getting sick of it. Daryl wanted to take care of her, making her okay again. His eyes trailed down to the mark on her leg and the blood that oozed through the scarf and back up to her sad smile and all too knowing eyes.

He wasn't having it, she wasn't going to kick the bucket, least of all in this dump!

"Get your shit, we're going." 


	26. Chapter 26

Life after the dead  
Chapter 26

Though night had fallen quickly, and Rick had followed the woman's commands and waited outside, she had yet to give any indication that they were allowed to come inside. The last thing he wanted to do was spook her and have any of them wind up with a shotgun shell ripping through their torsos, but he desperately wanted to get inside. A few walkers had straggled into the walls and found their way into the spikes,they were safe, sure, but simply being near them was enough to put him on edge. During their wait he had inspected the gates and fences and there were numerous compromises that weren't easily fixed. He would have tried it at least, had he had the energy for it. The house seemed safe enough, and they had been promised entry, and so he just waited.

Michonne had taken to resting, or at least doing something similar. She had folded her legs together into a knot and sat like a Buddha with her eyes shut tightly. She twitched now and again as walkers presented themselves at the gates and twice she had gotten up to quiet them, but she had yet to make a real move.

Carl had gotten impatient more than a few times and had taken to walking the gates, all while keeping in Rick's line of sight, as instructed. He had made his lap at least twenty times before he finally sat down next to Michonne and tried talking to his dad. Rick was however unresponsive, his mind too flooded with the man they had left behind. If Daryl had made it, and the girl had managed to save him, they should have long made their way here, but he remained painfully aware of their absence. He knew that the choice had to be made, and that it was the only way that he could have secured Carl's safety, but he felt uneasy nonetheless.

They had lost so much already and Daryl had done so much for them, done so much to protect his family. He had become his family, his brother, and Rick wasn't sure if he would be able to cope with his loss, especially after they had found each other again.

He tuned back in, noticing that Carl had been talking to him for quite a while and offered him an apologetic look. His son rolled his eyes and faced away from him, taking on his much practised angry teen pose, before stalking off again to check the fences.

Rick felt bad for a moment, knowing that he hadn't been the best dad of late. In fact it had become nearly impossible to be a decent father to his son. The world had changed now and the only way he could do justice by his child is to ensure that he survived. Rick kept him from harm and taught him to keep his own, how to read people and how to protect his family. He had never wished this life for his son but this was the reality now, and there was no turning back. Carl had to learn, or he would die.

Still,... it wouldn't hurt to treat him like a human being once in a while.

Then, as he moved to call back his son, the door opened, and Nomusa revealed herself. She had changed into different clothing, though Rick couldn't really understand why. Her current outfit seemed more fitted and less combat efficient, though he supposed she would be faster this way, with less chance of snagging on branches and such.

"Wat are yu doing? I told yu to com inside. The dead ones com at night" she said quickly and gestured for them to come inside. Rick raised a brow but didn't wait for her to repeat herself. He quickly whistled for his son to return, which he quickly did, already holding out his gun. Rick's eyes glinted with a hint of pride and he moved his family inside.

Nomusa quickly closed the door behind them and bolted it with a mechanism which didn't seem to fit the design of the surrounding woodwork. Rick eyed his surroundings and found himself in a hallway with an opening to a kitchen on the right, lit slightly by the daylight that crept through the boarding and the few candles littered about, varying in size and colour. They had eaten what the woman had brought them sure, but he was astounded to see actual cupboards stocked with food. It looked like a regular kitchen, with cans and packages scattered all over the place and Rick never felt more relieved. He had not yet figured out the people here, but he was glad to know that they would not starve while he did just that.

On the staircase on his left, he spotted the young girl he had seen earlier, hiding in the woman's arms. She sat folded together, looking at them with the biggest brown eyes he had ever seen. "Hello" Rick said softly, surprising himself with the ease his dadvoice came back to him. Kyra seemed to respond to it and dared to smile ever so lightly, before being gestured at by Nomusa.

She spoke to the child in a language he could not place and instantly the girl complied, taking a few steps back and seeking higher ground on the stairs. Nomusa had warned her against them. Rick would have done the same, at the very least but he didn't mind admitting that it stung a little. The world was rotten now and the people turned into something worse than walkers, but to be assumed to be like that, it did something to him.

Nomusa pointed her trusted weapon through the kitchen, towards the living area where she had prepared arrangements for them. Each had a bedroll to sleep on and a pillow, there was an old fashioned tub and buckets next to it, which he assumed was to clean themselves with. There were bars of soap and even a fresh pair of clothes for each of them. It wasn't much compared to the old days, but to see such care laid out in front of them was enough to get them a little emotional. Carl fingered the clothes in disbelief and turned to Michonne who seemed to share in his delight.

"De food is in de kitchen, yu can take wat you like. Der is a fitepit in the courtyard for warming water. De taps work. Der is medical things in de bag" Nomusa explained, pointing in various directions to help her explanation. Rick nodded in understanding, moving to thank her, but she continued to speak. "Yu make yourselves at home, but if yu com upstairs during de night, I shoot you dead. I do not care what Guwen says" she threatened, making sharp eyes at the lot of them.

"Guwen?" Rick questioned, tilting his head as was his habit, his hands finding his hips. The woman nodded reluctantly. "De girl yu met, dis is her house. She told me det us all would be equal but until she coms back, yu are strangers. Even she is stranger..." the black woman trailed off, looking behind her to find that her sister had already crept down two steps to better her view of the new people.

"Are you saying your don't know her either?" Rick rang, seriously concerned by what this woman had just told him. Nomusa shook her head and pulled at her raggy wild curls. "She save my Kyra, keep her safe. She find me and take us in, tells she take care of us, keep us safe" she explained, clearly proud and impressed by their host. Rick had to admit that the girl sounded impressive, but to take in people blindly? It was reckless and dangerous and was going to get them all killed.

"Now I protect wat is hers."

"Quite the loyalty. Must be some girl" Michonne rang from behind them, to which Nomusa nodded. "Like I said, she saved Kyra, so I will serve till I pay de debt" she rang, growing sharper with each uttered word. "Wat she says, goes."

She was looking at Rick directly now with her last comment, having sniped him out as being the leader of the group. Broken as he was, he was still a figure of authority, she could tell by the way the other two looked at him for guidance, observed his moves and instantly reacted to them like dogs that had been trained to do so.

Nomusa was not unlike Daryl in her convictions. Loyal to a fault. Without a second thought she would safeguard that what the girl held dear. Like a stray dog she had been taken in and offered a bone, more time with the kid. He didn't know how the girl had saved the little one, or what had even transpired but if things had been different and she had saved Judith, or Carl, he too would blindly trust her. It was that trust that kept her from claiming the house as her own. There was nothing keeping her there, no real bond that connected her with its occupants, there was only a debt and a lesser woman would have thrown that in the wind without a second thought, and killed them in their sleep.

He couldn't be sure, but the thought was certainly lurking in the back of his mind. This place was secure, fortify-able and had plenty of resources. If anyone else had been here, and if things had been different, he wouldn't have felt any guilt when he stepped over their bodies. His family came first. It surprised him that Nomusa hadn't done or at least thought the same. She had a young child to worry about, and she took such a huge risk by trusting people to this extent.

Rick had nodded at her comment, it would do them no good to start disagreeing now. They had only met that girl with the angry eyes for a flash of a second, and in that flash she had already demonstrated her care for Daryl. Leadership and qualities aside, she was doing alright in Rick's book. They would have to figure it all out when they returned,... if they returned.

He eyed the wild haired woman in front of him. He had expected their talk to be over, seeing as she clearly held some sort of hostility towards them he had expected her to have gone away at the earliest opportunity. But she had stayed, and lingered after their final words had been spoken, her eyes darting over his companions and especially his son.

"Yu are Daril's people, yes?"

She was curious. Rick offered the nod of his head, looking back at son, and his... at Michonne who had taken to cleaning themselves while watching the discourse. "Used to be more of us..." Rick sadly traced, a hint of anger caught in his throat as his mind bubbled over all the faces he once knew to be alive, and those he knew for certain were already dead, countless more were unconfirmed. It had been a long while since he had mourned the ones they had lost before the battle, it had been a while since he had allowed himself to remember. He kept himself busy, providing for the group in every way he could, besides going on runs and recruiting people. Rick tended their fields and took care of their pigs, he fixed the things that needed fixing and he was left to his own devices. He wondered now that if he had been in the council, if he had stayed on top of things, if things would still have gone down the way they had now. Maybe things would have unfolded differently, or maybe he would have made it even worse.

He had long lost faith in his capabilities. He couldn't protect the ones he cared most about. His eyes traced to Carl as the threat of hot tears lingered behind them. He had long spent every tear his body could produce but still each time he dared to look at his son, his body threatened him with emotion. Carl was his mission now, his reason to live. He had already lost his wife, his daughter, there was no way that Carl would join them. He would survive. He had to.

The red on his skin and clothes would only ever rebound blood.

"Der is paper on one of de bedrolls. Write deir names, wat dey look like. It will make de search better" she said, pointing at the notepad on his pillow, stunning Rick into place. Michonne rose and took to Rick's side, turning her head to look at the woman better. She nodded deeply, and he felt her hand against the mid section of his back, calming him.

His lids lowered over his eyes as he drew in a breath, once again taking in his surroundings, pulling himself from his memories and thoughts. His back muscles tensed under her fingers, and she withdrew her hand. Michonne had a way about her, a recognition or acknowledging disposition that just did something to him. Lori had been the same, especially before,...

It wasn't so much the end of civilisation that had strained them and tore them apart, they had been in trouble long before then, but it hadn't always been that way. Once they shared this bond that required no words, or even looks. They had this connection, intertwined thoughts and feelings, but with the years, and with the birth of Carl, that all changed.

It didn't matter now...

It was good that he remembered, it was good that he felt the pain of her loss, their loss. He'd remember them all. He'd take on the hurt gladly. It was the only thing that seemed real now.


	27. Chapter 27

Life after the dead  
Chapter 27

Daryl's unwarranted rage had long subsided. Gwen had gotten bit and there was nothing he could change about that now, the only thing he could do was hope that she was in fact immune and that this bite would end in the same way her previous one had, with her being fine, and alive. He had opted to cut off her leg to stop the spread, but upon his arrival it had already been several hours since that kid had gotten to her, besides he wasn't strong enough to carry her. Heck, he was hardly strong enough to carry himself at this point.

As they had left the house, Gwen had been the one who limped towards the walkers and planted knives in their skulls. Reluctantly, she had handed Daryl her bow, but he was anything except a master at using her recurve. It had a nice balance and her arrows were expertly made, but he had just never shot one in his life. Sure he had made bows in his day, the ones you make from random branches, using his shoelace as a string. He was simply inexperienced and shit, did it show. He could bring down a walker sure, but took him too long to align his arrows and thus far he had only managed chest shots. He had sneered in embarrassment at his third shot and had already prepared himself for the crap Gwen would throw at him for being absolutely useless. But she hadn't.

Gwen had remained surprisingly neutral during all of it. She was just happy to be up and about in the sunlight, hobbling her way to walkers to splatter their brains and then back to him to offer him support as he walked. Oddly enough, Gwen didn't seem at all troubled by the state of her leg, having made several jokes since they had started their incredibly slow walk. Daryl's body was aching and with each step he took he felt as if he were walking on a nail bed, but having her arm around his waist, his arm around her shoulder, it numbed him and he felt like smiling.

It was stupid and naïve as he was going to lose her, and he would probably snap the very second he put a bullet in her skull, but there was something about looking down the barrel with her. They were going to face it together.

"You aight?" He asked the limping woman who had leaned a little too much against him to be normal. She was answered with nothing but a grunt and a whip of her head, so that he could look at her better. Her hair had gotten caught under his arm and she made a face as she strained her neck to ease her discomfort. Daryl had instantly raised his arm to help her, but only managed to get his fingers caught in the tangle that was her hair, as he noticed it, he muttered an apology so quiet she couldn't possibly hear it. She offered a toothy smile and squinted eyes and he told her to shut up, only making her smile wider.

Without really noticing it himself, his eyes had drawn to her lips at every given opportunity, his mind replaying the moment she came towards him and connected with him. He had been wondering about it's meaning and cause ever since it had happened but he had been too much of a chicken shit to actually ask her about it. He just didn't know how to feel, and so he tried locking it away behind a wall of made up priorities.

First, they needed supplies, medication, then they needed a car, and they needed to figure out where the hell they had ended up. And he needed his thrice damned crossbow back, Gwen's wasn't cutting it. Her bow was beautifully carved sure, but in his hands it wasn't any more useful than a piece of driftwood. And if he was going to buy her time, he needed a fucking weapon that suited him, something he could defend her with for when she got worse.

He eyed the woods surrounding the road they had taken, cursing the lack of construction and sources of possible medication. She had a temperature, and he needed antibiotics to help her. He wasn't sure how the virus worked, nor really what the body itself did to fight infections. Sure he knew how to disinfect a wound and how to treat certain injuries but the inner workings of the human body were a mystery to him. He'd not been in school long enough to actually learn anything during biology. Maybe her body made something that fought the virus, or maybe it wasn't compatible with her genes or bloodtype- or something.

Daryl groaned in frustration. He was used to feeling stupid, but never in his life had he wanted so badly to have learned something, to be knowledgable, to be educated. He took his thumb to his mouth, trying to combat the rushing feeling that housed in his chest. Feeling that they were running out of time, he turned to Gwen.

There was very little he was sure of these days. Not only was he unsure of Gwen's survival, he was even more confused about her actions and her motives. He had tried to make sense of it all, what had happened before. He wanted to write down her kissing him to an encumbrance of emotion, but that wasn't really befitting of her character. The girl seemed neutral and unphased by almost everything, so she wasn't about to give way to feelings, was she? Maybe it was her appointment with death which made her more inclined to seek a thrill or two before kicking the bucket, but even if that were the case, why would she go for a sweaty, bloodied redneck? Maybe because he was the only man in the vicinity? Did she even like men?

Gwen stepped away from him for a moment, and for that same moment Daryl was afraid that she had heard his thoughts. She took to a walker on the far side however, and he dismissed the idea. He quickly put his thoughts aside, knowing it was unlikely for him to know her lips again. He heaved a grunt and straitened himself, testing his muscles.

Promptly stabbing its much too weak skull, the blade was pulled from the creature's face, spilling gunk Gwen's way at an alarming velocity. She sputtered for a second, turning away of the corpse which had just come at her, wiping her face and picking bits with her hands. The lower half of her face, her neck and hair were now coated in a foul smelling substance of clotted blood, rot and bits.

As if she were animated she reacted, kicked the remnants of the creature as she danced and spat trying to free herself from the stench, spurting all kinds of abuse "Aw fucking disgusting piece of motherfucking shit" she wrinkled and spat once more, viscously rubbing her arm over her mouth. She then caught Daryl's eye and it seemed that he had not kept his features in check as she angered at his sight.

"Suck my left nut, Dixon!" She bit, answering his amused expression with vile. He couldn't help but but chuckle slightly, shrugging as she taunted him with her eyes, dissipating his earlier worries. She was issuing some sort of challenge, like she had done in the woods. He knew what would follow, a scuffle of sorts, her laughter and her body trapped beneath him, incapacitated with pure glee. Daryl swallowed hard, he couldn't manage that now, not with his injuries, and the expected results brought a keen sting to his gut which he wouldn't have. Not now. Not ever.

"It's a good colour on you" he gruffed, roughly gesturing at the blackened goo that lingered on her skin, trying to shift the focus to her instead. She tried to make a face at him, and as she stuck out her tongue, realisation hit her and she near collapsed onto the ground, once again making retching sounds and spitting all over the place. "I fucking licked it!" she wailed loudly, holding her hands to her mouth as she writhed in disgust.

He would have scolded her for being so incredibly loud and reckless while they were in no position to properly defend themselves, if not for the smile that had crept up on him. They wouldn't have many moments like this now, he wasn't about to ruin them. For now, he would just watch her and maybe even try to make her smile, a little.

An hour passed, and so did the walkers. Daryl had convinced his companion to stop killing each corpse they came across, buying them time, saving their energy and possibly even stalling death for a while. She however reluctant, agreed and they had taken to hiding as soon as they spotted the dead. They couldn't outrun them now, weakened by blood loss, lack of food and the constant exertion they now faced.

Daryl had lead them in the direction that he thought best, but truly he had been disoriented ever since he'd been knocked out. He went and directed her on instinct more than actual planning. He truly didn't know where they were headed, all he knew was that this was the direction they were supposed to go.

He had gotten a bit sluggish in the last couple of miles, finding his feet dragging behind him at every step. They needed to rest soon, he knew that much, but he couldn't bring himself to say it. So, instead he distracted himself and turned to Gwen. "Those kids.." he started, waiting for him to answer his eyes, which she did instantly slightly shocking him in the process. Her lids were dark with lack of sleep and strain now, and her skin pale, making her ever so green eyes pop even more than they usually did. He didn't like thinking it, but it was beautiful in a way. Beauty through suffering,... or some such crap.

He cleared his throat and continued his question. "They got out?" Gwen nodded deeply and sucked a breath through her teeth, sighing sharply. "Yeah they did. At least,..- didn't hear their screams so I'm assuming they got away. Out the window, you know?" she said rather lazily, not bothering with complete sentences and actual context. Maybe because she was tired, maybe because she didn't really know, and didn't want to dwell on it, but it bothered Daryl. She was the kind to over-involve herself in other people's business, one of those saviour types, pressing religion down your throat in hope you'll pick up a fucking bible before you die, she wouldn't be this disconnected. It was her fever...

He waited patiently till Gwen naturally gravitated back to his side, her caring nature pulled at her, and so she took to him to support him as they walked. Before she could object or duck his hand, he pressed it up against her forehead, finding it clammy with sweat and burning to the touch. Daryl hissed and took in a breath and she turned to look at him, evidently eager to hear his findings. When he didn't answer her curiosity however, she drew her own conclusions and playfully mused them "I'm on fire, baby~"

Her cavalier attitude irritated the hunter and he was much inclined to whack her around the back of the head, but as he looked upon her closer, her eyes betrayed her real fear. They were unfocused and small, the surrounding lines much darker and deeper now, and so instead of scolding he decided to offer her comfort. He moved his hand to her shoulder and pulled her closer to him briefly, like a tap on the shoulder. "You'll be just fine" he lied as his fingers dug into her mud and blood covered skin.  
She let loose a short burst of laughter, swinging her arm around to his side and squeezing a little. "You're a shit liar, dude" she threw, smiling a toothy grin. Daryl gruffed in response, feeling compelled to draw her closer to him. His hand complied and her smile brightened once again. Daryl wanted so very desperately to keep her safe, but how does one fight an infection? A wound? He was no doctor, no physician, heck he wasn't even a veterinarian.

"Damned walkers" he hissed under his breath, silent enough to think that the girl had not heard him. In truth he had been grateful for the change, the virus and the dead, though sickening; it had given him purpose. But now his use was heavily outweighed by the possible loss he might suffer,... again.

"Ohh...I don't know" Gwen near hummed, swaying her head towards his shoulder. "I like what has been done to the world, in a way." Daryl bit the inside of his mouth, surprised to hear her words and slightly angered by its contents. "Death?" he hissed. Gwen shrugged dismissively.

"I once worked a few weeks at a florist, as a kid. Have you ever noticed that flowers were different then? Not like before? Roses, tulips, and even the ever so distinct lilies all smell the same. Ruined by endless modification to have the longest bloom and the most vibrant colour, the flowers lost their scent. Everything had this generic flower smell, like perfume. Fake, and artificial, and now, they'll return to what they were. Just like people.."

Gwen sounded almost hateful as she continued her story. Daryl knew what she meant. It was true that people returned to their nature now, the violent and murderous kind sure, but he supposed that was what humans had always been. This world brought out the deepest and darkest part of a man to the surface for all to see. It was monstrous and horrible, but there was no pretence anymore, it was honest. But some couldn't take it.

"When people break, they can't be put together again" Daryl muttered, absently scratching his arm, having released Gwen previously. Her anger slid from her features and once again a smile emerged and beamed his way and her fist found his arm rather sharply. "Some of us, heal stronger" she sputtered. Daryl huffed a laugh and promptly gestured at her leg.

"Is that right? You seem to have lost quite some blood, girl" he opted, shoving her back a little. She stopped in her tracks and promptly punched him against his shoulder once again, grinning a childish grin. "You've obviously never had your period" she smirked.

Daryl shrugged "I'm a late bloomer"


End file.
